


Five Lights Rising

by Haunted_Frost



Series: Five Lights [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 11, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Sam Winchester, Archangel Dean Winchester, Archangel Sam Winchester, Archangels, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Happy Ending, Hellhounds, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Season 11 au, Season/Series 11, Time Travel, Trials, prayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 46,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Frost/pseuds/Haunted_Frost
Summary: Against the Darkness, the boys will need new and old allies to save the world again.   Faced with orders from a God who won't show his face, they will have to endure the Heavenly Trials, a series of tasks that will ensure they have the power to take down something as old as God himself.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so I posted this during Season 11's airing, so a few elements are canon but most are me playing with the characters presented. Not to mention I resurrected some characters. I'll add more tags once I read through the story again.

 

Five feathers . . . Metallic ones, glinting in five different ways . . . Bronze, Silver, Gold , Copper , Iron . . .

The warrior's bronze locked in the depths. The lightbringer's silver in a cage again. The herald's gold in another realm. The healer's copper hanging out of reach. The believer's iron, waiting to be forged.

A mysterious young woman with blonde curls and dark, deep-set eyes tilts her head.

_Well. The story continues._

The man with a scraggly beard chuckles,

_Yes. And you're about to be written in._

She raises her eyebrows. _How might that be?_

_That's for me to know. I'm the Writer, even though sometimes the story writes itself._

_What will they face now, that they suddenly need me? You told me yourself that you'd follow me into the pages again._

_It is the Darkness. Something older than my angels, older than Heaven and Hell._

. . .

_What do you want me to do?_

_Save people . . . bring the five to power . . . raise the lost brother. I’ll tell you more as the plot unfolds._

_As you wish._

Five feathers, glistening with their respective lights.


	2. Out of the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That mysterious female figure gets a name, and the boys take shelter from the darkness. If only it were that easy.

**Out of the Fire**

_**Each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. ~Edgar Allan Poe** _

* * *

The cloud of darkness rushed over them, shaking the car, but disappearing beyond the horizon.

"Well, looks like the next big bad is definitely bigger than our usual," Dean said, looking out the window. "Let's get on the road, see if we can find what we need. Damn, Sammy, what are we going to do now?"

"Saving people, hunting things? Just like old times?" Sam asked. Dean nodded. This wasn't the time to blame one another for anything. Dean was free of the Mark, and Sam had done what he had to do.

"Yeah, yeah . . . family business back in swing, and all . . ." Sam chuckled at the reference to the musical.

"I'll call Cas. We can head to the bunker in the meantime and do some research until a hunt comes up."

"I like the way you think, Sammy."

* * *

Adam glanced around. This had happened before—utter darkness, no escape.

"Help!" he gasped, clawing upward at anything.

"I've got you, keep going," a female voice urged.

Light broke through. A hand yanked at his arm, and he swallowed air.

"That took longer than I meant it to. Sorry," the voice said, and he rolled over in the grass to see its owner.

She was probably twenty-ish. Like an art student at college, she had dark streaks in her otherwise blonde hair and carefully applied black eye makeup. A gunmetal-grey leather jacket and black, high-heeled boots added to the slight edge she seemed to give off with an exhausted pout of her thin lips.

"What do you last remember?" And she had a British accent. Huh.

"Uh, well . . . Castiel, that's his name right? Threw a Molotov cocktail. Heaven's where I went, right? Why'd you pull me back?"

"Because God asked me to. And I kind of listen to God when He calls," she chuckled, holding out a hand to shake.

"Name's Eva. And you're Adam." He took her hand and shook.

"Yep, that's my name." She leaned in closer, completely oblivious to or completely not caring about the grime that covered him. Her eyes seemed to search his, and he didn't want to call her creepy because of it, but it was definitely unnerving.

"Your soul . . . I've never seen one quite like it before," she finally said. "It's so . . . clean, unmarked, despite the roughness it has gone through. Worn but new and tough at the same time."

"You can see my soul? What are you?" Adam tensed—it's not like he could fight, but he'd be damned if he'd let another creature get the jump on him. He'd trusted the angels. After having Michael take him over, he knew better. He should have listened to Sam and Dean after all. She smiled bitterly.

"One of a kind. Ever heard of the Nephilim?" He nodded warily.

"Half-angel, half human. Lot met them in the Bible—" She waved her hand dismissively.

"Yeah, half and half. Well, they were all supposed to be killed once upon a time, but the archangels' kids got a free pass if they didn't do anything stupid. Which naturally meant that they did the stupidest things possible, like hook up with humans."

"So you're the result of that?" Someone who had angel powers, but wasn't an angel? She grinned with a self-deprecating glint in her eyes, shaking her head.

"Not really . . . the Nephilim's kids passed themselves off as humans . . . Y'see, one of Lucifer's kids got found and were punished, sent to hell, memories wiped and powers sealed up. As punishment, sent to be a human soul on its way to being a demon. And the human half of it did get corrupted, so no one knew what it really was. One of the best demons around, too, made all sorts of deals and broke plenty of souls on the racks. If no one else could do it, I could." She glanced at him as she switched pronouns, from it to I. "But eventually something had to slip. I . . . went to a bar to make a deal. Y'know, simple stuff—a broke alcoholic author seemed pretty easy to convince, especially with his stuttering, constant look of fear. But he wasn't human." She sighed here.

"He was God, hiding as a poor schmuck among humanity. He took one look at me and knew who I was, took me back to his place in a snap, where his girlfriend offered me homemade soup and he restored my memory."

"So you switched from being an evil bitch from hell to . . ."

"Interning with my grandfather, I call it. It's not much of a job and it's more for experience than anything." Adam snorted at the ridiculousness of the idea.

"Interning with God. Nice."

"Benefits are great, too," she smiled wryly, "So. You have a choice here, and I've got to offer. You could, A, be Adam Milligan again, go to medical school, get a girlfriend, get married, have 2.5 kids, and end up in heaven for your wonderful life and sacrifice for others . . . or B, be Adam Winchester and help stop the next big bad on the way. I was asked to resurrect you for the purposes of option B, but He's all about that free will and that stuff." Adam stared. This seemed pretty unlikely a choice to be offered—wouldn't God just wave his hand and let everything fix itself?

"Me, a Winchester."

"Yup. Meaning, meeting up with Sam and Dean and dealing with the Darkness they unwittingly unleashed. Or you could have what you were going to without the supernatural interfering. Your call."

He could do what he would have done if the ghoul hadn't come, if Michael hadn't wanted the showdown. Be normal. Be everything he'd wanted to be.

Or he could throw himself in with brothers he barely met, risk his life to save the world. Be a hunter, jump into a life he never wanted before and honestly knew nothing about.

He looked up at Eva, who had pulled him up, mysterious and quite possibly lying about it all.

"Adam Winchester has a nice ring to it."

"That it does. Let's make a proper hunter out of you, eh?"

* * *

Cas joined them on a hunt, agreeing to learn how to do it their way should his grace completely fail.

"Right, so this ghost should be simple enough, right?" They'd gotten leads on the Darkness, but the trail had recently run cold. Apparently a woman was sucking out souls and walking in and out of places in a dark shadow, calling herself Amara.

They had yet to actually face her.

"Yes. It appears the bones were buried at St. Paul's Cemetery, across the street from the local church," Castiel confirmed. They set out and did it—simple.

Until screams echoed from the church. They rushed in, guns blazing, to find a woman in a black dress sucking out the soul of the preacher.

"Mm," she murmured, "And where are your chosen now? This is your house, is it not?" She flicked her hand and the statues and windows shattered.

"Stay where you are!" Sam shouted, gun pointed. She turned slowly.

"Dean," she said quietly, tilting her head. "You are the first I have seen of His creation. So bright . . . yet . . . so flawed . . ." She strode towards him, tilting her head. "So full of pain. I could take that away . . . leave nothing but bliss . . ." Her hand rose to his face. He couldn't help but try—he stabbed her.

The knife shattered, and she frowned.

"I will find Him. He is the one that I have troubles with, but He will not answer."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"God. He is the one I wish to speak with."

"Don't we all," Dean replied gruffly, "But I highly doubt he's going to want to talk to someone who's eating souls."

"Why do you want Him?" Castiel asked, frowning, "Revenge for locking you away?"

"The wound of His actions runs deeper than that, child of light. You'll see . . . in due time . . . that He is manipulative and selfish more than anything else."

Without warning, she disappeared. So much for an easy ghost hunt.


	3. The Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting leads to a reunion a long time in the making.

**The Family Business**

_**You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them. ~Desmond Tutu** _

* * *

Adam glanced at the necklace she had.

"What're those supposed to be?" Five small glass vials, all empty, with different metallic wires and feather charms attached to them.

"They are meant to hold angel Grace. Specifically that of five archangels."

"Five? But—"

"The four previous and a new one, a seraph that's getting a promotion," she amended. "And actually, I don't know the full story about it either. I have to gather all five graces myself before I get information on what exactly to do with them . . . got anything on the werewolf?"

"Yeah, it's two of them. Think they work at the dance club downtown." It had been about two months, and Adam had done a hunt with Eva every minute of it. It was a little exhausting, but she reasoned that she could kill anything they were in over their heads with, and the best training he could get was on the job. So far he'd made connections with a couple other hunters, only calling himself Adam to their faces, not quite wanting to draw attention with his new last name. And so far, Eva had given him no good reason to distrust her.

They'd dealt with a few ghosts, shifters, a vampire, a Wendigo (She'd had to step in on that hunt and smite it at the last second) and now a werewolf or two.

"Variety." She had explained it as that. "Gotta get you up to speed with everything possible. You know enough about angels I bet. But we need to get you an anti-possession tattoo . . . and teach you some basic Latin . . . gotta be able to send things back to Hell without my help, eh?"

"Yeah. Never had a tattoo before." She grinned and pulled off her jacket—only a tank top underneath revealed sleeves of tattoos, one of which being the anti-possession one. He recognized lists of names within the scrawling patterns, but didn't ask about them.

"How'd you get that if you're half demon?" he wondered. She smirked.

"Focused my angel half in that spot while they were doing it. Now, got the silver bullets loaded?"

* * *

It was a damned witch. Dean _hated_ witches.

Cas was gasping for air every breath, blood spattered across his face.

"What did he do to Cas?" Dean growled as Sam lugged the angel in.

"I'm going to look up the spell. It isn't fatal, that much I know—none of the ingredients there go with deadly curses."

"Cas? Cas, can you hear me?" Dean wiped away some of the blood and sweat off of Castiel's brow.

"D-Dean," he choked out, coughing up more blood after.

"Sh, sh, take it easy."

"It's a goddamn torture spell," Sam seethed, opening the book he'd found. "Everything that's most painful to Cas is happening to him, at the very least neurologically. Won't kill him, but it'll make him suffer. Either he rides it out for a week or we find the antidote."

"Antidote. It's like Hell on Earth for him right now," Dean urged.

"It says . . . 'the touch of the victim's most beloved one will relieve the pain to a lesser degree until the antidote is found. The antidote is made of these calming herbs . . . the hair of the caster . . . bone from a corpse of a servant . . . and a vampire fang.' . . . I can get the ingredients. Mostly herbs, except for the last few. You take care of Cas."

Dean did his best. He cleaned Castiel up, moved him to the couch (the guy was too heavy to get to a bed) and stayed with him.

"Dean . . ." Castiel grumbled, voice raw, "Don't let go." Dean held on to the angel's hand, a tiny voice in the back of his mind echoing the 'beloved one' line from the book.

"I got ya Cas. Anything I can get for you?" Cas's eyes widened slightly. Dean had hardly ever seen him so vulnerable and childlike.

"No, please . . . just . . . stay." Dean frowned, but smothered any thoughts of pride or otherwise and focused on keeping Cas as comfortable as possible.

When the angel winced, Dean loosened his grip, but Castiel only grabbed Dean's hand tighter.

"My wings," he whispered, "It feels like . . . like they're being set on fire." Dean hated the look of absolute despair on Castiel's face.

"Any way I can help at all?"

". . ." Castiel fidgeted for a moment before wrapping his arms around Dean's neck.

"Uh, what?" Dean yelped, but otherwise did nothing to resist. Castiel's breathing steadied.

"It's . . . not as bad," he panted.

Sam came quickly with the antidote, saying nothing about the angel's arms slung around Dean like a child. Castiel eagerly drank the concoction, and was back to normal within a few hours. Except he didn't quite meet Dean's eyes—not that Dean would meet his either.

* * *

When Eva announced they'd be parting ways soon, Adam protested. They were hunting partners for four months now.

"I have to continue my mission, Adam," she said wearily, "It's not as if I haven't enjoyed your company."

"What's next, then? Am I physically able to come with?" She frowned.

"Yes, but you shouldn't. I'm going to Helheim to get one of the archangels' Graces. Norse underworld. Dunno if that's a good idea."

"Well, why is that archangel's Grace there?"

"Gabriel played pagan trickster Loki for a few thousand years. Yeah, it's his fault that Tom Hiddleston's role even exists. He never wore the ridiculous helmet though." Adam chuckled.

"Well, I guess I'm out of my league there. What should I do?"

"Whatever you want; I'm not your nanny," she teased.

"Whatever I want? That's an interesting response."

"Why's that?"

Adam hesitated only a moment before kissing Eva. The occasionally sarcastic but very intriguing girl had made him wonder at first, but it grew into a different kind of awe. She froze, surprised, before deepening the kiss and running her hands through his hair.

"Mm, well if that's whatever you want to do, count me in," she smirked, ruffling his hair. "I'll be back in the normal realm of existence soon . . . I'll come find you. Can't have my new boyfriend lonely for too long, eh?"

Boyfriend? Yeah. He could live with that.

* * *

_-Ten Days Later-_

Eva stumbled into his motel room with a wide grin on her face. She held up the vial with the golden feather—a white light swirled inside of it.

"One down, four dicks with wings to go."

"Yeah," she laughed, "I happen to have wings so don't be making too many jokes like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll show you sometime when we have enough space and free time. Meanwhile, I got a hunt for us. Different pagan trickster; had a grudge with Loki actually. Get your stake ready."

* * *

They were tracking a trickster, Sam had determined with a solemn look.

"Why the long face, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Just . . . the last trickster we dealt with was Gabriel," he shrugged, "I wish he didn't have to die. He ultimately took our side, y'know . . . I did a lot of thinking about it. If there was another angel we could have alive and on our side, it'd be him."

"Really?" Dean didn't want to tell Sam that this seemed a little overboard, but he tucked that thought away.

"Any Amara leads, Cas?" Sam asked instead. Castiel frowned.

"I believe Crowley may be allying himself with her. I'm looking into it."

"Be careful, Cas," Dean warned. The blue-eyed man rolled his eyes.

"Of course I will. Take your own advice."

On occasion, they used their real first or last names in a motel sign-in. When they knew they were hunting something non-demonic and non-angelic, they could usually get away with it once in a while. It wasn't like Sam or Dean were uncommon names, and Winchester wasn't exactly one-of-a-kind either. Tonight they were Mark and Matthew Winchester.

"You meeting family?" asked the clerk at the desk, "Because there's already a Winchester room booked. Well, a Winchester and a Grace, even though they're a couple, clearly—oh right, will that be a king or two queens?"

"Two queens," Dean frowned.

"Uh, what's the first name of the Winchester? We weren't planning on meeting anyone." Dean looked at Sam, who had said this.

The young woman was oblivious to the tension from the men.

"Jake, he said. Younger, but kinda looks a little like you," she shrugged, pointing at Dean.

"What room number? I think he might be someone we know, but if not, our mistake," Sam said suddenly. Dean looked at him oddly.

"You sure it was Winchester, not something else?"

"Positive," she nodded, "The girl made a pun about him being a Losechester after their last job together." Sam laughed, while Dean rolled his eyes.

"All right. Room 107. Yours is 111, two doors down. Enjoy your stay," she said automatically.

"What's gotten into your head?"

"You'll see if I'm right." He knocked at 107.

"We didn't order room service," he heard a girl mutter. There was a laugh.

"I don't think they have it. Be careful, I just finished the lines—don't trip."

A blonde young woman answered the door, opening it only a crack. She glanced between the brothers.

"Uh, wrong room I think?" she said.

"Is your, uh, boyfriend here? Winchester?" Sam asked. She tensed.

"Yeah, getting unpacked. Sweetheart _,_ do you know these guys? Like from that deer _hunt_ you went on last month? Were they at the cabin, or did you _get_ to meet them at _the_ _gun_ shop?" The emphasis was subtle enough that had they not been hunters, she might have said it unnoticed. Dean tensed; he didn't want a fight if he could help it.

The click of a gun was heard, and the boys were staring crosseyed at the end of the barrel over her shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam said, and the gun was lowered instantaneously.

"Sam? Dean?"

" _Adam?!_ "


	4. This is Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva explains what she's allowed to, and Dean and the Angel of Thursday have a talk.

**This is Right**

_**In time of test, family is best. ~Burmese Proverb** _

* * *

Eva introduced herself and explained what she and Adam had been doing.

"So then what? God's going to jump in and help?" asked Dean, frustrated.

"Things are . . . delicate. The Darkness is equal to Him in power. But He has much more control over His. She, on the other hand, is a ball of rage over Him locking her up so long ago." Dean frowned.

"Don't get me wrong, but it seemed more personal than that."

"Of course it is! I knew there was something off whenever he mentioned her, so I did a little digging . . . I got him drunk enough to talk once—the Darkness is God's sister." Silence pervaded the room.

"So that's why she's bitching about it at churches," breathed Dean, "She takes it personally."

"If your mission is to gather archangel grace, how do you expect to get Gabriel's? He's dead," Castiel said, having been called to the motel once they'd spoken to Adam for a moment.

"I got his already," she rolled her eyes, lifting the vial for them to see.

"And do you know who the 'chosen seraph' is?" asked Sam.

"Not really . . . well, I have guesses, but He hasn't given me any hints. Lucifer's in the Cage. So's Michael, I think. And Raphael's grace is still in Heaven . . . doubt I could get in easy," she shook her head, sighing, "Y'know, this interning with God thing does suck sometimes."

"What I don't understand is why He's spoken with you so freely, yet hasn't even given an indication of his existence to any of his servants that have needed his guidance for so long." Castiel hadn't meant to sound accusing—the girl had been forthcoming and as truthful as he could tell. But it was there, and she shrugged.

"I asked him myself why he'd want a demonic Nephilim abomination working for him when his entire Host has been searching for him for so long. He only smiled and said it was part of the Plan. I called bullshit, but he wouldn't give me anything else."

"Any chance we can do anything now?" asked Dean, "Because I'd like to gank this trickster and then lock up the Darkness. Chick gives me a bad feeling."

"I can understand why she upsets you," Eva nodded, "Before even heaven or hell, there was Darkness—emptiness. No soul, just quiet. No breath. She's . . . yeah. You get the picture."

"You know way too much about this stuff," Adam sighed, "Now if you just knew what we were supposed to do next."

"I—" Eva paused, staring out the window.

"You didn't," she muttered. "What am I supposed to—yeah the sooner she finds you the less angels we have on our side, I know—Damn, what do you—You expect me to—What then, the other archangels—I can break into Hell, sure, Heaven too, who's the seraph I need to—I _knew_ it, you—now, the new three archangels besides them?" She spoke as if on the phone.

"Heavenly trials?" she frowned, and Castiel sucked in a loud breath.

"What's that?" asked Dean warily, but the girl ignored him.

"After all they've done for you," she scoffed, turning on her heel and pacing, not meeting anyone's eyes, "Without even knowing. You haven't lifted a finger for them except to keep them in the game . . . you're a real douchebag you know?" she growled. The air crackled with static, and the temperature dropped noticeably.

"Eva," Adam warned, "Don't hurt anyone, okay?"

"As if I could," she laughed humorlessly, then continued— "The five lights. I get them. I tell all about your plan _and_ where you've been hiding. If they go after you, well, it's your fault."

A pause, then, suddenly, all the anger was gone, and solemn resignation replaced it. "Fine."

She took a deep breath and turned to face them again.

"Once we retrieve the five lights, we need create new archangels using the Heavenly Trials. At least, with Raphael, Lucifer, and Michael—Gabriel apparently has enough appreciation for humanity in him from being a pagan, so his grace will be used in his resurrection," she chuckled, "And our seraph is easy, if I'm right. God's favorite little angel of Thursday," she smiled, eyes sparkling in Castiel's direction. His eyes widened dramatically.

"Me, an archangel? Me, who lost faith long ago and did terrible things with the life I was granted again."

"Yes. You, who held on to your faith so long, did what he thought was right though it was not necessarily easy. You who He brought back, when He could have left you dead without changing His plan. You, the bravest angel who fought Hell, Heaven, _and_ Purgatory. To me that seems fair enough a reason for promotion." Castiel shook his head.

"I am not nearly as brave as you make me out to be."

"Cas, last time I checked, you were," Dean pointed out, "Going against everything you know? Falling? All of that seemed pretty brave from my end."

Castiel shook his head and sighed.

"No, Cas. You don't get to do the self-deprecating thing. That's a Winchester thing, along with not staying dead, daddy issues, and saving the world."

"Check, check, and check, if what I hear is anything to go by," Eva said quietly.

Dean turned on his heel, glaring at her, but nothing came out of his mouth.

"And what's wrong with him being part of the family? He's sure earned it, Dean," Sam said casually. But the weight it held flipped a switch on Dean and he stormed out the door. Castiel glanced between the younger Winchesters and Eva before following Dean out to his car.

* * *

"Do you hate me so much that you wouldn't want me to be a part of your family, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Wha—no, Cas. Jesus, no. It's just, if you haven't noticed, this family isn't exactly easy to be a part of. And I take care of my family, and if something happens . . . I feel responsible. I'm not gonna let you ruin yourself by . . ."

"I would think it an honor to be a Winchester, Dean."

"Well, it's not happening," Dean growled.

"Eva did make a good point. I have sacrificed myself, I have lived with you two . . . I would not hesitate to protect the both of you. My heavenly brothers never showed the love for one another that you two most definitely share . . . that I now have for you." Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

"Cas . . . it's been eating at me since that last witch . . . agh, tell me . . . did you get any relief from that torture when Sam carried you in?"

"None."

"But you wouldn't let me let go of you." Cas bristled. A voice chuckled in the back of Dean's head. _Keeping your feelings to yourself. Another Winchester thing Cas has got._

"The spell . . . mentioned a 'beloved one'? Am I . . ."

"Ever since I pulled you from hell, Dean. It was a slow fire burning, not noticeable at first, but from my first glimpse of your soul, I have loved you." There it was. Dean leaned back against the car, suddenly low on strength to hold himself up. Lightheaded.

"Cas . . ." He took a shaky breath. "How? How could you even . . . I was . . . I'm not exactly lovin' material, you know."

"No, I don't know, and I hope I never do. I think you fail to see how wonderful you are . . . Your soul shines brighter than any star—and trust me, I've seen the stars created—you're kind, selfless, and courageous despite everything you've been forced into. The real question is how could I _not_ love you, Dean." Heat flooded Dean's face at the declaration.

"Cas . . . you have to know . . . I hate this, I'm really no good at this . . ." Dean grimaced.

Dean Winchester was not known especially for words and gushy, emotional speeches. But he was known for showing exactly what he meant. For him, actions mattered far more than words. Castiel knew this.

Dean was hesitant, but he let his hands find their way to Castiel's hips, looking him directly in the eye as he eased forward. Finally, like jumping into icy water to get over the cold, he surged forward, and their lips met. The message he needed to convey was loud and clear.

 _When I'm with you, this is home. I want you to be a part of my life, my family. This is right_.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Eva shook her head, smiling. "Those two . . . have so much unresolved sexual tension. Crowley was right. With any luck, they'll be coming in slightly disheveled by one another," she chuckled.

Sam and Castiel tensed. "Crowley?"

"Oh, calm yourselves. I told you I had a stint in Hell? He was my personal supervisor for some of it. But that doesn't really matter. When those two get back here, don't tease them if you can help it, Adam. This has been a long time coming." Adam laughed.

"Really? I hadn't noticed; you had me skim through the books. I ain't messing this one up." Sam frowned, then glanced between the two of them.

"You don't mean—" a grin was starting to form on his lips.

"You know, the reason it wasn't Deastiel? Because the fangirls thought it should sound like destiny," Eva smirked, "At least that's how God's girlfriend explained it to me. Looks like it was after all."

At that moment, Dean and Castiel came into the room, slightly ruffled but otherwise normal.

"Well, Sam, sorry that you're the fifth wheel here," Adam sniggered. Of course, Eva hadn't said anything about teasing Sam. Dean's eyes shot up.

"Fifth wheel? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Two couples and Sam," Eva shrugged, letting Adam sling an arm around her shoulders. Dean grinned at his youngest brother.

"You sly sonuvabitch, Adam, would've thought the couple thing was just for show. I—well, uh—" his eyes met Sam's, who held his gaze for a moment before snorting.

"Took you long enough."


	5. Three Angels Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

**Three Angels Return**

_**The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend. ~Aristotle** _

* * *

Eva then took the opportunity to say, "He's resurrecting angels again. I'll be damned . . . again . . . He won't let me give everything away. I told Him I'd tell once I had all five Graces. He wouldn't allow it. . . I can't talk about who'll do the Trials or what they are for. But He's brought back allies. Samandriel and Balthazar are alive, and Gabriel has been too for a while—Gabriel will be human when we find him, since I have his Grace, but not for long. Here—ah, Castiel, could you pray to your two brothers to get over here?"

In a flash, a teen and a familiar Brit stood in the room.

"Getting kind of crowded, eh?" asked Adam jokingly.

Castiel summed up the situation to the two angels.

"I'd like to point out that this is insane," Balthazar groaned, "Why would He drag me back for this?"

"Because believe it or not, we need your help again. Only this time it's against the Darkness."

Balthazar frowned, and Samandriel looked frightened.

"Surely that's not true. You bozos didn't—"

"We did," Dean grumbled, cutting Balthazar off, "Not knowing what was going to happen. But we're gonna need angels— _all_ angels—on board with this. Because all together we might have a shot at locking her back up."

"Right, because us lowly seraphs have remotely enough power to even compete with our Aunty," Balthazar snorted.

"With God and the archangels and all of you together? Hell yes you do. Come on, don't sell yourselves short, you're freaking angels," Adam pointed out.

"He's got a point, Balthazar. It was just the four and God the first time. Altogether, if things go right, we could lock her up for good," Samandriel said.

"We need to find Gabriel," Sam said after a minute or so, "He's been brought back, too, but human, so he's probably not praying and staying low. Any ideas?"

"Gabriel—you mean, the one that's been missing for thousands of years?" Samandriel asked doubtfully.

"No, the one that Lucifer killed in the last apocalypse attempt," the middle Winchester said impatiently. "He was pretending to be the trickster Loki when he hid from Heaven before. He might have hooked back up with Kali, but I can't be sure of that."

"Whoa, first we gotta figure out where the other angel graces are and how we're getting them," Adam interrupted.

"But if Gabriel dies again that could set us back," Sam argued.

"And we should probably figure out the Heavenly Trials thing too," Dean added, eyeing Eva, "She can't tell us but that doesn't mean we can't find out." Eva smirked at the loophole he'd found.

"Divide and conquer, then?" Balthazar suggested. "Samandriel and I have access to the heavenly archives. If there's anything about the trials there, we can look it up. Adam and Eva could search up the Graces, and you three can rescue Gabriel from whatever mess I'm sure he is probably going to stumble into."

"That's actually a good plan," Dean said, impressed.

"I _did_ run the armory. I know a thing or two about battles. Pray if anything requires us. Eva, can you hear prayers?"

"Only if they're directed at me specifically."

"Good, then. Well, it's been lovely chatting with you all. Ta-ta." And with a snap, he was gone.

"I am glad to see you again, brother. I'm truly sorry for what I did to you," Castiel told Samandriel, "Try not to smite Balthazar for being rude in general."

"I've forgiven you already, brother. That's how he's always been, and I haven't done it yet," grinned the blonde teen before snapping his way out, too.

"Got our numbers?" Sam asked Adam as he and Eva packed their things.

"Yeah, I do. And salt. And knives. And paint. And holy water. For the third time. Do you go all mother hen on Dean, too?" Sam frowned.

"No . . . actually . . . Dean always did it with me when I was on my first hunts, or when I'd been off hunting a while and came back . . ."

"Oh, so it's an older brother thing." That was such a strange thought—Sam, the older brother.

"I guess so." Dean looked at the exchange with mild amusement before making his presence known.

"Well, time to roll out. You two gonna be all right, looking for those graces?"

"We already got one without trouble. Raphael's dead, so his is probably in some place connected to him. And we know where Michael and Lucifer are, so it's just a matter of getting there."

"Yeah, but it isn't exactly a pretty place to go to find them," Sam said.

"I know, I've visited the Cage from a distance," Eva nodded.

"Meet up at the bunker when it's done?"

"I don't know where that is," frowned Eva, "Could we meet up at Singer Salvage? We could all drive down together after if need be."

"No, that's fine. Come back in one piece each," Dean warned.

"You three as well."

"Oh, and Eva? Hurt Adam and torture in Hell will look like a tea party," Dean said casually. Adam spluttered, face flushing.

"Really, guys?"

"That comes from me, too. I know a thing or two from Lucifer himself." Eva smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure. Keep safe, boys." She grabbed Adam's hand, snapped, and they were gone.

* * *

Castiel and Dean were kissing heatedly in the Impala when Sam found them. He groaned, exasperated.

"Really, guys? You know what. I'm getting my own room tonight if this keeps up."

"Won't be able to pay for it, Sammy. Cas and I might annoy other guests with noise if you leave us alone." Sam made a face.

"So do _not_ need that image, ever."

They checked into the hotel—two rooms, one king, one queen. Unfortunately, funds were running low.

"Time to hustle some pool," Dean said. "Cas, do you want to come or stay and watch Netflix?"

"I will stay . . . I don't want to ruin the game by saying or doing something out of place." Dean's expression softened.

"I'll teach you how to do it sometime if you like. But okay."

"What is a Netflix?" Dean laughed and shook his head, promising to explain later.

Castiel kissed the green-eyed man on the cheek before the brothers left.

* * *

The bar was dimly lit, as most were, and the pool tables were surrounded by different guys playing for increasing amounts of money.

"Well, I'll get us started, huh?" Dean ruffled his hair and went to the bar first, needing a drink or two to be a believable drunk, despite his tolerance.

Sam sat at a table for a couple minutes, declining offers from the staff for a drink or food. He just sat for a minute, thinking. After all, he'd paid attention to what Eva had said, and didn't like the implications.

_Now, the new three archangels besides them? Heavenly trials? After all they've done for you without even knowing. You haven't lifted a finger for them except to keep them in the game . . . Once we retrieve the five lights . . . create new archangels using the Heavenly Trials. At least, with Raphael, Lucifer, and Michael._

Three humans to do the trials, three new archangels. Raphael, Lucifer, and Michael. He doubted anyone else had caught that little tidbit among all the information she'd given. Only three living humans had the capacity to be archangel vessels, and if there were going to be new angels, who would be their vessels?

"I changed my mind, can I get a beer?"

"Well, sure, if that's what you want, but I'm more a whiskey man myself," a familiar voice said. His head snapped up. There was Gabriel, wearing a polo with the bar's logo on it and holding a notepad—his waiter was Gabriel. Well that sped up their progress considerably.

" _Gabriel."_ It was unbelievable, really it was, that for once things would be just a tiny bit easy.

"Huh, I was wondering how long it would take before someone would find me. I've been stuck without a sliver of Grace or a clue as to why I'm alive when I distinctly remember Lucy stabbing me. And judging by the lack of the Earth being destroyed, I'd say you avoided the apocalypse somehow. Care to catch me up on things?"

"I—yeah. Well, I said yes." Gabriel frowned.

"But you're not Lucifer . . . right?"

"No, I took back control and jumped into the cage, dragged Michael in with me. Was brought back, without a soul. Got my soul back and hallucinated about Lucifer while trying to cope with things from Purgatory, like Leviathans. We got rid of those. Dean and Cas got sucked into Purgatory during that . . . a bunch of other shit . . . well, Dean was a demon for a while, had the Mark of Cain. I cured him though. Cas's Grace was ripped out of him so he's running on Metatron grace right now. We released the Darkness when Dean killed Death and rid himself of the Mark. And now Balthazar and Samandriel have been resurrected, a girl named Eva claims to be working for God, and she has your grace. Also Dean and Cas finally freaking got together."

Gabriel stared at him.

"I assume there's a lot of crap in between the lines there, huh?"

"Yeah. For a while there Cas thought he was the new God. And we were actually looking for you when we got here, so you're coming with me whenever you're ready."

"Aw, I'm flattered, you're taking me home with you." He grinned brightly. Sam rolled his eyes. He glanced over at Dean, who'd just won his game, collecting his winnings. Gabriel looked around the room and spotted his manager.

"Hey Gary! I quit!" he declared before waltzing out the door with the Winchester brothers, the oldest of whom looked aggravated. The younger was just relieved.


	6. The Heavenly Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is gathered on the Trials. Amara plans to make her move.

**The Heavenly Trials**

_**He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow** _

* * *

Balthazar was careful to enter the room when no one important was supposed to be around. 

Samandriel was more familiar with the archives, having spent a lot of time in them before. He immediately dismissed the sections that had been written during or after the Fall of Lucifer. What they were looking for was at least as old as the angels themselves.

Finally, after paging through volumes, Samandriel landed on a text that appeared to have something behind it on the shelf. He tugged and found a tablet. Quickly replacing the book, he brought it to Balthazar.

"Thank goodness it's not one for prophets to read, or we'd be screwed royally," the elder angel nodded, scanning the tablet.

"The trials of Heaven shall not lock their gates. Instead, the Gates will offer a sliver of sacred metal to form a new blade, and in the breaking of this offering, empty Grace and a mortal being shall become one. The Heavenly Trials . . . Samandriel, I think I know what Dad's up to."

"If we're thinking the same thing, then this Darkness thing might actually be easy to beat."

"Let's not get our hopes up _that_ much, but yes, it certainly looks good . . . if those boys weren't bloody stubborn assholes."

"You're one to talk."

* * *

Eva was kneeling at the bed, hands folded, lips moving silently. More than once Adam had found her this way, and preferred to let her finish praying before speaking. Sometimes actual whispers rose from her innocent-looking form.

Adam knew, mentally, that she was also a demon, that she'd tortured in hell. But somehow that did not detract—it seemed to add to what he liked about her, that after that she'd still choose to do what's right. He hated eavesdropping, but . . .

" . . . I don't want them to have to do this, God. It's not fair to them, after everything . . . if it is Your plan to make things fall apart, no thanks, I'll make my own plans," she growled suddenly, then softened, "But I guess all I can hope is that what You do is right and just, eh? I had my doubts from the beginning. Don't make me give into them . . . Amen."

"What'd He say?" Adam asked.

"Nothing. He doesn't answer usually."

"Really?"

"He can hear me though. He made that very clear after I called him a douchebag jokingly when he wasn't in the room. He struck lightening right in front of my feet."

"Huh . . . so what's next?"

"We break into the Cage with these vials in tow and get Lucifer and Michael."

* * *

Amara walked through the park. People stared after her for a few seconds, but forgot that the beautiful woman was there after a moment or so of her passing. The color and life seemed to fade from her footsteps in the grass. She glanced around before settling on a bench alone.

"Hello, dear." She was no longer alone.

"Crowley. What was it you wanted to show me?"

"A very large supply of souls in Purgatory to keep you sated." She raised her eyebrows.

"Keeping me fed, are you, so I don't eat your men?" He chuckled, slightly nervous.

"After all, we are running low on numbers."

"And what do you want in exchange? I've known you long enough to see you want something in return."

"Ah, yes . . . this, war on God you have . . . can you leave Hell as is, let things continue?"

"You want to keep your position. Funny, how you should really just ask to be spared with your life."

"That would be preferable as well," he said quietly, glancing away.

"We'll see. If you prove useful to me, then indeed that is what you will get."

* * *

Dean called Adam with the news.

"We're kind of in the middle of getting the next graces . . . can you wait on us a bit at the salvage yard?"

"Now listen, we can't just sit here and do nothing while Amara is out and about."

"That's not what we're asking. Why don't you check up on Samandriel and Balthazar while you're there? Eva—okay, we've got to go, she's going to start the spell to get us to where we can get Michael and Lucifer . . . seeya."

"Adam, wait—" The line was dead.

"Dammit."

"So they're going to get the graces?" Castiel guessed.

"Yep."

"Why are they getting just Lucy and Mikey's graces? Why not the angels themselves?" Gabriel licked the sucker he'd had for a few minutes.

"According to Eva, Michael and Lucifer aren't 'human friendly' enough. You are. Raphael wasn't. There's something on the Heavenly Trials or—"

Gabriel cut Sam off, "The Heavenly Trials? Weren't the Trials of Hell to close the Gates of Hell? Wouldn't this be the same thing to heaven?"

"You would know more than us," Dean shrugged, "Since y'know, you've been in Heaven longer."

"Pray to Samandriel; he'll answer quicker," Castiel urged, and Dean started praying.

"Uh, Samandriel. You and Balthazar get anything on the Trials?"

The two angels appeared in the room, Balthazar holding a tablet.

"It's in Enochian, found it in the archives . . ." He handed it to Castiel, who read it in English for the Hunters' sakes, frown deepening as he did so.

"It's to create an angel."

"It appears so . . . I don't think I understand."

"Oh, please, Cassie, you remember the old stories we were told as children," Balthazar shook his head, glancing at Gabriel, "That someday, new beings of His creation would get adopted into the family. That we would gain new brothers. This must be where it comes from."

"So I won't be the youngest angel anymore?" Samandriel grinned. Gabriel snorted.

"Except they'll be archangels, if the text is anything to go by. So . . . let's see. I'm already an angel, so that's not necessary. Cas is getting an upgrade. What about Mike, Luc, and Raph?"

"Michael and Lucifer are in the cage, but I believe Eva is going to retrieve their respective Graces. Raphael is dead," Castiel frowned.

"So they'll likely be the 'empty' graces. Huh." He glanced between the men present. Then the former archangel's eyes widened.

"Dad damn it . . ."

"What, Gabriel?"

"I think I remember . . . another part of the story . . . something about three humans completing the trials," but his eyes looked worried still, like he was trying to remember a part but couldn't.

"Well, we've got exactly that," nodded Dean.

"What are the trials?" Sam glanced at the tablet.

"There's seven of them," Samandriel said. "The text explains that one trial will not be revealed until the previous is completed, so only the first one is visible—become a vessel to an angel. Well. You and Adam have been vessels each, but not Dean."

"Well, that's not exactly hard. Any volunteers wanna ride my ass?" Dean said.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, brows furrowing. Dean sighed.

"Honestly, no, but I can't see much else _to_ do here. This isn't a thing we can ignore, and I do _not_ want to just let Amara win. If there's something we can do, I'll do it."


	7. The King and Princess of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team reunites, and Eva speaks with Crowley to try and complete a trial.

**The King and Princess of Hell**

_**Without doubt half the ethical rules they din into our ears are designed to keep us at work. ~Llewelyn Powys** _

* * *

"Dad! Uncle Mike!" shouted Eva through the bars of the Cage. Adam raised his eyebrows. "Really? Uncle Mike?"

"It'll annoy him," she smirked, and was proved correct as a roar seemed to come from everywhere on its own.

"They're going to kill each other if they fight any harder—the Cage can barely contain them. If I try to get in . . . hm, it might implode and that would do us no good. But you might be able to—here's my angel blade. I'm going to keep a border up that they can't pass. Can—can you kill them?" Adam's eyes widened.

"Me, kill two archangels?"

"Really you only need to kill one. If Michael—he's killing Lucifer—doesn't see you coming, you can stab him, and get his Grace with this vial." She handed him the bronze-feathered one.

"But you've got to close your eyes once you've stabbed him," she warned.

"I think you've got it wrong. I'm not—I can't—"

"You can. You have to. I literally cannot go in there, Adam," she said.

"What if you shot a bit of Grace in there and let it implode on both of them or something?"

Eva frowned a moment, then shook her head with a smile.

"Why didn't I think of that? . . . they might come rushing out of the opening that I'll need to mojo in there . . . have the blade ready, just in case."

* * *

"Dean, do you consent to being my vessel?" Castiel asked. Dean's eyes widened at the idea.

"Yes, Cas." Sam closed his eyes just in time, slapping a hand over Gabriel's eyes too, as light flooded from one vessel to another.

"Well, this is certainly . . . interesting . . ." Castiel muttered from Dean's body.

 _Cas. Uh. Wow._ Dean was shaking inside his own body, unable to control it, rushing light surrounding him, burning through his veins without really burning.

 _Yes, Dean . . . This is very unusual . . . I suppose I could go back to my previous vessel—there seems to be no time requirement on the tablet._ And just like that, Dean was back to normal, staring at Castiel, breathing more shallowly, and wondering if Castiel's talk of his soul being so bright was really about Castiel's Grace.

* * *

Eva assured Adam a thousand times—all right, forty-one, but she was the only one counting—that she would be able to find Raphael's Grace herself, since she knew it was in Heaven somewhere.

Adam grumbled but let her go, kissing her and telling her he'd be heading towards Singer Salvage from the motel they'd stopped at.

* * *

Two weeks total, they waited for Adam. Eva returned an hour after his arrival, holding up her necklace. The only vial that had no light was the one with the wrought-iron feather, the black one.

"Castiel," she turned, holding out the small vial. "This will only take a moment."

"How do you know I'm the chosen seraph?" he asked with a frown.

"No one else could be. You've always been the chosen seraph—to save the Righteous Man, to fight against the apocalypse, and now to become an archangel."

She plunged the vial into his chest, pulling it out with a burst of light.

"So. The plan is for us three to do the trials, isn't it?" Sam asked. She raised her eyebrows.

"Wait, what?" Adam asked.

"Gabriel vaguely recalled that three humans need to complete them," said Castiel.

"Well, now that you've got those five lights, what are you supposed to do?"

"Give Gabriel and Castiel theirs, complete and in Castiel's case even stronger. Gabriel, the Herald. Castiel, Archangel of Thursday." She muttered things in Enochian, swaying slightly before opening the gold vial and the iron one again.

Both angels glowed brightly before dimming back to normal. Castiel looked around, wide-eyed. "That is different than before . . ."

"That's what you get with the powerup," grinned Gabriel, clapping his brother on the back. "Along with a better control over your wings. Could probably bring them on to the physical plane without burning anyone's eyes out." Castiel's eyes shot up to Dean's, burning with a clear, unnamed desire. Dean thought of it as a way to see something that was completely _Cas_ , even though Jimmy had long since gone to heaven.

"So now we have to complete the Trials. I didn't know what each one was, so thanks for getting the tablet, boys," grinned Eva.

"And we technically all have the first one done—being an angel vessel apparently is the first and probably the easiest step," Dean said.

"When did you get that one done?"

"Cas helped." That was all that needed to be said.

"What's the next one?"

"Tame a Hellhound," read Castiel off the tablet. Dean snorted.

"What, we'll have a pet Hellhound then?"

"Each of you will. Could be useful, y'know. Invisible vicious guard dog," chuckled Gabriel.

"I believe Samandriel and I should stay in Heaven and sit these out, mm? Unless you need us, darlings," Balthazar waved and snapped himself out. Samandriel shrugged and disappeared as well.

"Let me see if I can call in a favor," Eva said, showing herself out of the room.

* * *

She knew they'd assume it was God she was contacting for help—He was the only one she'd asked for help from the entire time. But she had connections downstairs, too. Getting in contact with Crowley wasn't an issue. It was being in his company.

"Yes, Fergus, I'm alone. Do you want to meet at a bar, or at your place? Wouldn't want to be too forward." Eva quipped, "Unless you've got friends over." She snickered.

"Where are you staying?" the voice asked suspiciously.

"With my boyfriend," she half-lied smoothly. Adam _was_ in the building. "Taking him for a ride around the country. Seeing the sights. Now could you sign over a hellhound to me? Was thinking about teaching it tricks."

"Not until you come downstairs yourself and get it. I can't come up at the moment."

"Oh, all right then." She snapped her fingers and was down in the throne room, glancing around for his company.

"She's getting acquainted with her quarters," he said dismissively. Eva smiled.

"You just don't want whoever _she_ is to meet me. We never _actually_ dated, Crowley. You might have a different opinion on that, but I hardly call making deals together dating."

"I don't know, from my end it was all quite romantic," he quipped. "Now. You want a hellhound?"

"Yes. I'd like to keep it on hand in case I run into trouble . . . can't really stand to have demon company while I've got a boyfriend up there," she shrugged, "But he likes dogs." A curl of her lips seemed to indicate enough to Crowley—the 'boyfriend' was really just going to be sent to Hell.

"Is that what you've been doing this whole time?"

"Only lately. I just want the dog and to go back to my business."

"I am your king, Eva. I'm not above forcing you. You've been gone far too long for a simple deal." The dogs were on either side of the throne, growling. Eva could see them—vicious fangs, red eyes, matted black fur that warranted a bath. Growley was at his side, but four other dogs were at his feet.

"Do you even take care of them?" she sniffed in disgust.

"They're pretty self-sufficient," he pointed out. She shook her head.

"No, I mean groom them. Make them a bit less . . . grungy. A king's hounds ought to be in a state similar to his. What does that say about you? Not that you're my king. You never really were."

"What makes you say that?"

"Who said I was ever below you? Who said I had to follow Hell's orders?"

"You're kidding. You're a demon, Eva, maybe that wasn't clear—"

"I'm not. Not completely, anyway. I don't trust you enough to tell you where my loyalties are, but even if I were allied with Hell, I still outrank you—you're not really the king. I'm the princess, if you were interested, daughter of the _real_ king."

"You don't mean—"

She let her wings, two pairs, throw shadows on the wall behind her.

"You're not letting Lucifer out," he snarled. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a fool. Just figured you'd stop treating me as an ignorant little demon. I've seen to it that the world is devoid of any archangels interested in the apocalypse, so . . . I'll take a dog and be out of your hair."

"You think I'm letting you out alive?" She paled a little, but her expression did not change.

"I don't think 'letting' is part of the equation." Her confidence did not leave her voice, "Because I happen to be the Devil's daughter—you think you can keep me here?"

"Not me. But they can. . . You want a dog? Here's four. Sic her." He ordered the dogs, and her eyes widened, and she snapped out of Hell, the hounds of hell on her tail.


	8. Dog People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taming Hellhounds proves difficult, but not impossible.

**Dog People**

_**The more I see of man, the more I like dogs. ~Mme. de Staël** _

* * *

"Eva is praying . . . Crowley sent the hounds on her, and she's on the run," Castiel said suddenly, standing up.

"So we've got hounds, but not ones we can tame," Gabriel summarized.

"I dunno if we could tame them _period_." Dean glared at the floor, "What are these trials anyway? How do we know we'll come out the other end? The Trials of Hell woulda killed Sam."

"I can't guarantee anything, Dean-o," shrugged Gabriel, " _I_ didn't even know they were a real thing. The story went that brave little humans would complete the trials and raise our new brothers in arms. Sounded like a fairy tale. I guess any story Dad tells is a real one, though," he shrugged.

"Well, we've got to help Eva," Adam said urgently, wondering why no one was worried.

"Yeah . . . tell her to come here. If we can't get the things to heel, we might as well kill them," shrugged Adam, "Can't have them after her."

Castiel contacted Eva, relaying just that. She landed in the yard half an hour later, tumbling over wings they'd never seen before. She had two white feathered wings, long and sleek like a dove's, and two smaller black wings that were more like a bat's. Her angel blade was out and she ws like an animal in her ferocity, slashing at what appeared to be nothing but was definitely actually a threat. Everyone rushed out into the yard, glancing around.

"How're we doing this?" Sam shouted over to her.

"Got any holy water? That'd at least slow them down," she snarled, swiping at one that apparently came too close.

"Sit! Stay!" tried Sam, imitating Crowley's voice. The dogs, judging by Eva's reaction, had backed off a bit.

"They're still growling and circling . . . anyone else do a good Crowley impression?"

"Sit," Dean growled in Crowley's accent. " . . . good dogs?" He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Clearly he didn't put too much work into them recognizing their master," Eva shook her head. "Shouldn't have tried to reason with him . . ."

The tablet hadn't changed when they checked.

"Guess we gotta make them loyal to us, not just be tricking them?" Adam asked.

"It'd help if we could all see them," Sam grumbled. Eva snorted.

"It'd help if I could give them a bath. But they don't like me still. I'm more of a cat person," she said with a crinkle of her nose.

"I have to agree with that sentiment," Castiel said.

"How many are there?" asked Adam.

"Four. They smell like Hell—blood and sulfur," Eva sniffed, clearly unhappy.

"Well, maybe Gabriel could give 'em a bath, and we can look through the library for a spell to see hellhounds," Dean said. Gabriel shrugged.

"Good thing I'm a dog person . . . anyone want to help me? I don't exactly have a convincing Red-Eyes impression."

"I'll do it," Sam offered. "Let's take them one at a time into the shower, then."

* * *

They led the dogs to the snapped up dog soap, brushes, and himself and Sam into nothing but athletic shorts.

"Don't exactly want all that flannel wet, eh, Samsquatch?" Sam blushed but didn't respond.

As they scrubbed the dogs—Sam albeit blindly—Gabriel began asking Sam questions.

"What's your favorite dessert?"

"Of all the crappy motels you've stayed at, which was the worst?"

"How do you keep your hair like that?" Sam answered each one, not really minding. They continued.

"When you ran away to college, what would you have majored in if not law?" That was more personal. Sam shrugged.

"History maybe? Or literature? God knows, I took enough extra courses in my gen eds to really count for anything. Aced mythology," he smiled wryly.

"Sammy's a genius, then," Gabriel chuckled.

"If you could have only one kind of candy ever again, what would it be?" Sam countered.

"Dove Milk Chocolate."

"What's your favorite place in the world to visit?" And Sam continued, learning a bit more about the archangel. Gabriel interrupted after some time.

"Would you go out with me?" Sam was thrown. He tried to decide whether or not it was a joke. He had to admit, Gabriel was funny, now that he wasn't being a complete asshole.

And, when it came down to it, Sam had to admit he understood the guy a little. Running away from things when they get to be too much. Pretending to be someone else for so long, then getting dragged back into the thick of things, and realizing you can't really run away from your family.

"Sure . . ." The former trickster's eyes lit up and he pecked Sam's lips so fast that Sam barely registered they'd touched before Gabriel was asking another question.

"What do you want to name the dogs?"

* * *

When they'd found the spell to make the dogs visible, it was simple enough. The dogs still only answered to Crowley's voice, though. Adam suggested they continue to copy the voice, but each day slip closer to their own. And pick and collar their own dogs so that no one got confused. 

"I used to have a couple of Australian Shepherds," he shrugged. "I trained 'em. Had to imitate their previous owner for a while because they wouldn't listen to me either. It helps if you have a lot of contact with them, lots of petting and feeding. They warm up to you pretty quick that way."

"Okay. Gabe and I named them already," Sam shrugged, "So that might help."

Dean snorted.

"What did you and _Gabe_ name them?" He glanced between the two and grinned at the telltale blush that creeped up Sam's neck, along with the " _shut up Dean"_ Bitchface no. 32. Really, Sam had no idea how Dean picked up on it so quickly.

"Well, the two girls are Charm and Brandy. The boys are Riley and Zeppelin. Guess which one you get, Dean."

"Zeppelin?" he guessed. Sam laughed and nudged the biggest of the black, furry masses towards his brother.

"Go ahead, Zeppelin." The red-eyed dog stared at Dean intently, and Dean squirmed a bit—those red eyes reminded him of being dragged down to Hell.

He sighed and ruffled the top of the dog's head. He looked at it and mumbled in Crowley's voice, "Your name's Zeppelin now, got it? You're gonna be great, because your name is great, isn't that right?" Sam grinned—whether or not he wanted to admit it, it seemed like Dean liked the dog.

"I'll take Brandy then," chuckled Adam. The slender, shorthaired hound reacted slightly to its new name, padding towards the youngest Winchester.

"That leaves me with Riley and . . . well . . ." Sam glanced at Gabriel.

"Good thing I'm a dog person, like I said before. I'll train Charm," the smallest of the dogs, "And keep her at my estate in Nevada in the meantime."

"That wouldn't happen to be in Vegas?" Sam smirked. Gabriel shook his head, grinning.

"Within driving distance though," he said.

"While you two discuss dating spots, I want to know . . . you think we can find any more info on Amara?" Dean asked. Sam spluttered, but did little more than glare at his brother.

"I might have something," said Eva, frowning. "Crowley's lady friend that I gave him shit for . . . I think he's kissing up to Amara."

"So he's playing house with God's sister, and we've got to figure out these trials faster than she messes everything up."

"He doesn't trust me, that's for sure. I thought I could play him, but my pride got in the way . . . he's no king to me," she glowered.

"Well . . . basically two trials done. And no risks really taken yet."

"It only gets harder from here," Eva warned. "And I wouldn't say 'no risks'." She pulled up her sleeve, showing a huge scar that was clearly a bite mark.

"They got to me on the way here," she said simply. The panting dogs seemed slightly less pet-like to them.

Of course, the slobbering masses of black fur were plenty friendly with their new owners, so even the ominous scar did little to dim the dog-lovers' attitude.


	9. Distrust and Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information on the next trial is revealed, and Dean's not too happy about working with Eva now that he knows more about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this fic a while ago, so no, I did not name Dean's dog after Jensen's son lol

**Distrust and Research**

_**You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust enough. ~Frank Crane** _

* * *

Gabriel took Sam on dates while they trained their two dogs. They'd gone to Gabriel's estate which was literally just outside Vegas. They walked them back and forth on the Strip. Gabriel eventually began taking Sam out even without the dogs, having gotten them to stay in his living room when ordered.

Sam was in complete awe—Gabriel wasn't stingy with using his mojo. They went to the Lourve, the Willis (Gabriel insisted it be called the Sears, as locals still did) Tower in Chicago, the freaking Library of Alexandria, and so many other places with a snap of the archangel's fingers.

Dean was teaching Zeppelin to come, stay, fight, fetch, and sit. His dog fit him perfectly, eating whatever messy, greasy leftovers that Dean had for him.

Castiel enjoyed watching Dean be so easily happy with it—especially once it had begun to follow him without him putting on a voice.

Adam was reminded of his previous dogs and training them. It was an odd comfort from the demonic forces of the monsters they had to tame. Eva kept her distance but didn't seem too frightened anymore, now that the lumps of fur and fangs obeyed people that wouldn't harm her.

It was a few hours after they'd had lunch together that the tablet changed again. Two lines of text—

_Face Your Past_

_By Use of the Mirror Room Spell of Salem's Coven_

"Salem? As in, Sanderson Sisters, Hocus Pocus and all?" Dean asked.

"No, Salem was an old witch with a large coven in the 1300s. He was devoted to Alistair and I, and his grimoire is extensive," Eva frowned. "Salem the town was unwittingly named after him, and witches flocked to the area."

"Whoa, whoa, you and Alistair?" Dean growled.

"I was a demon, Dean. I was the one that turned Alistair. When he was a new demon, he was very into witches," her mouth curled slightly.

"You're the one that turned . . . _you_ tortured him on the racks?" Dean shivered.

"Who's Alistair?" Adam frowned.

"The demon that was in charge of torturing Dean in hell for forty years," Sam said, words chopped and forceful. The mood in the room became weighted with doubt.

Adam's eyes widened as he looked at her again, "You . . ." Eva didn't seem particularly perturbed.

"He was Hell's second-best torturer. Crowley was the best crossroads demon. I taught Alistair everything he knew . . . Crowley and I did some deals together for about fifty years . . . Didn't get too close with other demons."

"Dealing with Crowley, teaching Alistair—I mean, being in Hell is one thing, but that's pretty low. Not to mention you aren't telling us everything—how can I be sure you are what you say?" Dean demanded.

"Did you see my wings when the hounds went after me?" she snarled back.

"I did—but deception is something demons know best, along with betrayal, torture, and inflicting all kinds of pain," Dean snapped back.

"In case I haven't made it clear, I'm half-demon, dumbass! It's part of the job description!" she said, pointing at her face and letting her eyes change. Two pitch-black orbs stared at them, but they were like solar eclipses, light escaping at the edges.

"You think I don't know how terrible it was? I tortured Alistair, but who do you think had me on the racks? I'll give you a hint: she was the last Seal on my father's cage. It was almost me instead of him that broke you, too. But I'd gone topside to deal. I can't change what's been done before, and I'm sorry that I'm the reason he was able to hurt you so much, but what's done is done. I am here to make up for being the worst thing to ever breathe air, so don't tell me . . . don't tell me about betrayal, about deception. About pain." Her wings suddenly flared out wide, crackling with energy. Dean was about to shout back when they were interrupted.

"The both of you just SHUT UP!" Adam suddenly roared, getting between them.

"Yeah. Okay. Honestly neither one of you are remotely has a reason to like or to hate each other. We're all against the Darkness so who gives a shit what happened before?"

"How do you know we can trust her? She's hiding something, not giving us the full story."

"She hasn't exactly given us a reason to think she'd betray us."

"Or a reason to think she wouldn't." Now Adam and Dean were glaring at each other, and Eva sighed, defeated.

"Dean's right. It's not like I came in with credentials. Or a clean slate. A devil's trap will work on me if you want me on lockdown for a while. Not like God's giving me any new jobs . . . 'protect the Winchesters'." She snorted. "You've gotten pretty far without needing my protection. Salem's grimoire should have the spell. I'll let you do your thing. And I don't deny it, that I'm hiding something. God's kinda got my hands tied on that particular end of things. You can keep an eye on me but keep me out of the way."

Dean frowned, but a few minutes later had a rug with a devil's trap ready in the living room, half-under the couch so she could sit if she felt like it.

"You don't have to do this," Adam complained.

"You haven't been utterly betrayed by someone you trusted deeply, Adam," Eva said, a tired look on her face, "So I'm really surprised they didn't do this to me right off. Go ahead. I'll just stand wherever you want until you need me for something. Not like I don't need a nap," she shrugged. "Besides . . . after those mutts got me, I deserve a break."

* * *

Sam did the research, Gabriel distracting him dutifully every few minutes.

"Salem's grimoire is buried in Salem, Massachusetts, underneath the town's welcome sign," Sam confirmed, "But I'm trying to see if I can find the spell itself to save a trip. And yes, I see you juggling chocolate Easter bunnies." He hadn't even looked up from his laptop, but he was fighting a smile as Gabriel pouted, setting them down.

"You _do_ know it's important that we find this, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not as if I can't enjoy myself around you still. You're so smart, you could probably crack it without the tech resources," he said. Sam shook his head.

"No, I couldn't—"

"You got into Stanford, full ride, without even having a solid elementary or high school education to back you up. You could have been, quite literally, the best lawyer in the world. Married Jess, had three kids. Been really successful. Y'know, in other timelines . . ."

"Like that Croatoan universe Zachariah sent Dean to once?"

"Like that. In one other timeline, you get the girl, everything. I screw with people as usual. You die old and grey, shortly after Dean does."

"And we both go to Hell," Sam summarized. Gabriel shook his head.

"Nah, you both get Heaven—Dean saved countless lives as a hunter, and you as a lawyer getting people out of unfair sentences."

"That's . . . kinda nice, I guess. To know that somehow I could've done it."

"Really? 'Cause I just find it depressing. Knowing what could have been."

"Because I knew there was a chance for it . . . that in some other universe it worked out. But I am who I am because of the stuff that happened to _me_. I'm your boyfriend, for example, and I have gone to Hell, and I'm alive and in relatively good shape despite it, so it doesn't bother me all that much. It's kinda . . . good to know. That somewhere I got the normal I was trying for. But I don't need it, Gabe." Gabriel considered Sam's words for a few minutes before kissing him.

Then the angel told him, "I scanned all of the books in the library. Not one of them has the spell. We'll have to go to Salem."

* * *

In fact, there were witches to gank there. Apparently remnants of Salem's coven guarded his grimoire. The group on the hunt consisted of Sam, Dean, Adam, and Castiel—Gabriel had volunteered to stay behind and watch Eva.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Yeah, but the dogs do, and I remember you saying that you're a cat person, so that leaves me," Gabriel grinned, settling himself in the living room next to her.

"So let Uncle Gabriel get to know his only living niece in the meantime, okay?"


	10. A Hunt and Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt goes down in Salem, and the Winchesters prepare for the next trial.

**A Hunt and Musings**

_**I never think of the future - it comes soon enough. ~Albert Einstein** _

* * *

They got to the motel, and Sam promptly got one room for Dean and Castiel, and one for himself and Adam.

"I keep telling you, Sammy," Dean sighed, "It's too much—"

"No, it's not," Sam rolled his eyes, "So let it be. We could stay at the bunker or at the yard, and Cas and Gabe could just fly us here, but you're not a fan of that so we're doing it this way."

The witches were easy to find—arrogant, therefore sloppy. But there were also a lot of them. They had Sam and Dean each cornered.

"You can't escape, Winchesters. Salem's coven will have glory again, now that we're going to kill you when so many others failed," laughed the witch in Dean's ear.

"Right," snorted Dean, "You're kind of missing something, though."

With that, Adam cocked his gun and Castiel appeared, blade at the ready.

"There's more to our family now than just us two," Sam affirmed, and flipped the guy that had him, slamming him down to the floor.

The ensuing fight left most of the witches unconscious, and one particularly vicious one dead.

"Well, time to dig up that grimoire," Adam shrugged.

They got the book and found the spell fairly quickly—just a matter of casting it.

"Why don't we head back, then take care of it?" suggested Adam. "Or better yet, get to that bunker you guys were talking about?"

"That's probably a good idea," Sam nodded. "Cas, can you bring Gabe and Eva to the bunker? And the dogs? We'll drive—it's faster to get there than to get all the way back to Bobby's."

Adam cleaned the gun and put it away. He looked paler than normal.

"You did real good out there, Adam—saved our asses," Dean said, clapping the youngest brother on the back. Adam shrugged.

"Still . . . that guy was human," he muttered in the car as they drove to Men of Letters. Sam turned around in his seat.

"Yeah, but even humans can be monsters sometimes, Adam. I looked up the members of the coven. I checked their personal and criminal files as much as I could on the way here—that one? He used his spells to lure little kids to his house. Too many missing child reports have gone cold thanks to him." Sam would have continued with the implications, but Adam's lips pulled into a hard line.

"Huh. He deserved a little worse than a shot to the heart then. But I'm glad it's over with. Not a fan of witch hunts."

"Neither am I, but that's usually because they get to me before we can gank 'em. I've been turned into an old man, into a kid, Sammy's been switched with a teenager, just, man. I hate witches." Dean avoided reminding himself that the last encounter had been the worst when Castiel had been tortured.

* * *

Gabriel nodded once Castiel had explained.

"Well, you take Eva, and I'll take the dogs. We'll meet up just outside of it and you can lead me in. Sound good?"

"That works fine," Castiel shrugged. He scratched out a part of the trap.

"Dean doesn't trust you quite yet, but we're moving and I have no doubt he'll want to keep an eye on you," Castiel said, "And I'm sure Adam will want to spend time with you. We're moving to the Men of Letters bunker."

"Huh. Thanks for not abandoning me here, then," she shrugged, offering her hand, "Take me wherever it is." He took her hand, and they vanished.

Gabriel had the four hounds on leashes, but that did little to control them all.

"Heel," he tried, having mastered Crowley's voice finally. With surprise and a little satisfaction, he saw that they did not obey.

"Okay then . . . heel!" This time, using his own voice. Success. At least with Charm. The others calmed down a bit but didn't really stop causing controlled chaos. He teleported to where he sensed Castiel would be, and the dogs followed.

The familiar Impala pulled in a few minutes later.

* * *

"Okay, this mirror spell . . . I've done some digging, and I know what it does," said Adam as they dug into their dinner—pizza, done to everyone's preferences, courtesy of Gabriel.

"You did?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Sam's not the only one who had to do research papers in college, you know. I was pre-med. I know how to look for things."

"Oh, so you were a nerd too," Dean concluded, getting a smack over his head from Sam.

"Gah, I was joking. That's really cool, though. Having an almost-doctor on board and all."

"Yeah, well, I did look into possibly finishing med school before I met up with you guys. It's not like I think I won't be a hunter now—I've made that decision—but I figure I could probably be a doctor for hunters, you know? Fix 'em up when there's no chance they can explain to a real doctor. I know the angels can fix practically everything, but still, some hunters don't have angel boyfriends. Or might not trust angels. So they might need someone they can call up."

"That's actually pretty . . . awesome. I wouldn't have thought of that," Sam said.

"Yeah, well, that's not happening for a while, if at all," he sighed, leaning back, "Because this craziness isn't going to end soon."

"Hey, Gabe, is there a universe where that happens, like you were telling me the other day?" asked Sam.

"Yeah. Where you two find Adam before the ghoul gets him and he joins you. Sam goes back to law school, Adam to med school, and Dean goes into a trade school to be a mechanic. You take a few years off of hunting to do those things and get jobs as your respective things. Then you end up doing a little less hunting, a little more helping hunters out from the sidelines. Quite a few universes with happy endings," he said, leaning back, "Too bad I don't know the outcome for this one."

"That's because you're in it," guessed Sam.

"Precisely."

"When'd you go looking through other universes, Gabriel?" asked Adam.

"Had an off day," he shrugged, "So I went timeline-hopping. Looked into the Winchesters of other worlds. Looked into how other things turned out. Just being curious," he said, ending his sentence by stuffing his mouth with a large forkful of spaghetti. "It's interesting is all."

"So what did you find, Adam?" asked Castiel.

"The spell puts you into a room—a mirrored room—with four versions of yourself from the past. If multiple people perform the spell at once, they get rooms next to each other, but there's not much to that. You're stuck with talking to other yous and them getting to know who they become. There's some other stuff but I don't know it all. That's the general gist."


	11. Salem Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys encounter past versions of themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the J.K. Rowling quote with the witches! The bookworm in me was calling. I like how this turned out to an extent, but would have liked it to go a little differently with the reactions of the past versions. That might be something I want to explore later on its own in another fic.

**Salem Spell**

_**Time is making fools of us again. ~J.K. Rowling** _

* * *

"Okay, got the ingredients—mirror shards, holly cut from the plant at midnight, and blood of the caster spilled by an angel blade, all set on fire to a chant. Got the script for it, guys?"

"Yeah Sam, we got it. Let's do this."

It was about three hours after they'd eaten. Sam lit the contents of his bowl on fire, and he passed the lighter off to Dean and Adam to do the same. All three started chanting off the manuscript that Castiel and Adam had translated together.

As soon as the chant was over, the room fell away, and they were in a circular room with three glass walls dividing it in thirds, separating them. Dean glanced at his brothers.

"Well, we've got the mirror. You sure this was what you thought it was, Adam?"

"Who the hell are you and what is going on?" asked a voice from behind Dean. He whipped around.

A kid had a gun pointed at him. Had to be fourteen, fifteen. But another guy had a gun too—couldn't have been more than twenty-five, probably not even. He guessed this was the version of him that had just gone back to Sammy at college. The third one was glancing around, too, but hadn't drawn his weapon yet. Dean wasn't sure, but maybe this one had just seen the Croatoan-wrecked world, because he didn't seem too fazed at seeing his likeness standing by him. The last one was a given, and he had prepared for it with a floor mat that had a devil's trap painted on the underside.

Sam didn't turn around quite yet at the command of "Hands where I can see them!" He simply told Dean, who'd turned to his new versions, and Adam, who hadn't, to do their respective things and they could all talk when they were done getting death threats.

Sam turned finally, hands empty and up, once the voice had urged again.

Well. A kid, a college boy, and two he wasn't positive about. He examined the two older versions closely—one definitely stood differently. Predatory. While the other was clearly the opposite—jumpy, glancing around. So—soulless him, and probably a version of him that was hallucinating about the Devil.

"Calm down, all of you, if you can help it," he sighed.

"Care to explain what's going on?" asked the soulless one. He sighed.

"Well. You're all from different points in my past—I'm from the future? Anyway. We have to do this ancient angel spell to stop an evil thing from taking over the world. Again. Basically."

"Is it—was the Cage opened?" asked the nervous one, wide-eyed. Sam shook his head.

"Lucifer's dead; Michael and Raphael too."

"Whoa, whoa, Lucifer, Michael? Those are archangels," said college-him. Sam shrugged.

"And I've been way too close and personal with all of the above and then some from the Heavenly Host. They're not all exactly as great as you might think."

"You can say that again," said the nervous one, glancing to the left.

"He's not real, and I know he will tell you that I'm not either, because that's his thing, but can you roll with it for, like, a few hours, and tell yourself he's not the real one?"

"What's going on? Who?" asked kid-him, still holding a knife up in defense.

"Okay, so let me guess. You're—ten?" The youngest one frowned.

"I'll be eleven in two months." Sam chuckled.

"Right. You—Stanford still? Dad hasn't gone missing yet for Dean to pick you up?" The student frowned.

"Is that why you're messing with angels and spells again?" Sam shrugged.

"Angels and demons have been pulling the strings on us since before we were born . . . though that didn't really stop us from doing what we do. Dean brings us back Monday morning, but . . . never mind."

"Jess burns on the ceiling so we go for revenge," finished the soulless one. College Sam stared in shock. Sam frowned.

"You're gonna have to shut up, got it? He didn't need to hear that." The soulless one shrugged.

"What's wrong with him?" asked kid him, glancing at the nervous one.

"What's he doing now?" Sam asked calmly, putting a hand on the shoulder of his most recent counterpart.

"Going through the DSM debating whether or not one of us has the disorders." Sam nodded.

"He did that in the mental ward. But they were all diseases we remembered from Psych 102 freshman year, right?" That somehow reassured the twitchy version of himself.

"Okay, can I get an explanation here? A real one?" asked the college student, crossing his arms.

Adam knew he wouldn't be having as much trouble as Sam or Dean, but he would have a lot more confusion on his plate. He was right.

The kid that had never met a member of his family except for his mom—a little eight-year-old. He was crying already, and Adam moved to shush the kid.

"Hey, it's all right, sh, it's okay."

"What the hell is going on?" demanded the most recent version—the one that had just been resurrected and met Sam and Dean. "Where's Michael, or Zachariah? What happened?"

"Give me a minute," Adam sighed. "This spell that I had to cast—hi everyone. I brought you here, God knows why. Hehe . . . Look, I know I sound crazy to seventy-five percent of you, but I'm you from the future, and I cast an angelic spell to meet up with you because it's on a to-do list from God. That's the short version." Him from high school snorted. Adam frowned—he'd been a bully to a guy who'd been his best friend in college, his roommate—he'd been an asshole. Well, more of an asshole.

"Your first kiss was Millie Crane in the seventh grade and she tasted like those sour candies you like," he said, shrugging. He knew he wouldn't have to do much to prove himself to the kid that didn't know better, but the older versions raised their eyebrows.

"Never told anyone about the taste," said the version that was likely him in college.

"Yeah, well, that only means one thing, huh? I'm from the farthest in the future. You're only a couple years back, I think," he mused, looking at the most recent one, "But I've been out of commission too long to be completely sure. You're almost a year before him, right before I kicked the bucket the first time, you're rooming with Mark, you hate Mark's guts for no particular reason, and you," he finished, looking the kid dead in the eye, "Are going to have two big brothers around when you're older, and they're going to be awesome."

Dean caught the last sentence Adam said and smiled to himself.

"Care to explain all that?" asked the second youngest one. Dean shrugged.

"What they said—we're following a heavenly to-do list, and this spell is number three. Gotta take down the next big bad somehow."

"Next? This isn't Zachariah's thing again, is it?" glared the third.

"Nah, Zach's dead," said the demon, not turning his eyes black yet. "And judging by the fact that this guy's not all that antsy, I'd say he's your—our future self. And that's Sammy. And that's Adam."

"Who's Adam?" the youngest two asked, not lowering their guns.

"Half-brother that Dad failed to mention. Good kid. Sammy's brains apparently are a genetic thing, since he was pre-med, and he has no appreciation of good music, a bit of a pain sometimes but that's what little brothers are for. And before you try anything, you son of a bitch," Dean growled and threw down the mat, wrestling his demon self onto it.

"Damn, what was that for?" his apocalyptic counterpart asked.

"Your worst nightmare come to life," chuckled the demon, still not revealing his status. Dean was very glad that the First Blade wasn't in his hand.

"Not the crap of, my worst fear is myself again?" the third one rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

"Funny thing. Cause I'm not lying, and this is much more real than that little dream." His eyes turned black. The youngest Dean aimed his gun at the demon, and the second aimed his at the oldest.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, fellas."

"Why's he possessed? Don't you have the tattoo still?" asked the third.

"I do. Problem is, he ain't possessed," Dean grunted, sighing.

"The genuine article," the demon grinned, shrugging, "Y'see, Sammy and I avoided the apocalypse. But other things fell apart and, well, here I am, just like you dreamed!" he said in a sing-song voice.

"In my nightmares, you mean," scoffed the third one back.

"Don't worry. Sammy cures us and we get back to what we do best," Dean interrupted, "But he's most definitely us, and most definitely a demon, so leave him be for now, the asshole that he is."

"Apocalypse averted, then?" asked the apocalyptic Dean.

"Yeah, pretty much all the angels jonesing for it are dead, including Michael and Lucifer."

"The apocalypse?" asked the second, frowning.

"Yeah, well, angels are real, and both them and demons have been planning since before we were born that we'd be the ones to start the end of the world."

"Is that right? Huh." The second one looked impressed, "So all the crap we've gone through . . . the fire?"

"Demon named Azazel—yellow eyes—made a deal with mom ten years before. Unfortunately."

"Now how do we exactly get back to business? I've gotta find Sammy, y'know."

"Well—I don't actually know. Adam? Did you find out how the spell ends, with all that research you did with Cas and Sam?"

"Each version needs to hear something important. Kinda like putting a ghost to rest. They need to know something that matters," Sam answered instead, surprising his younger selves.

"Easy enough. You get your little brother back—it's a long road and you'll lose him again and again, but you get him back, okay? Don't let anyone tell you different, not even him—protect him, all right?" This was to the second Dean that was off to find Sam. He nodded—and began to disappear.

"I could've told him how to do it," Adam called over to Sam, "But I was busy making my minime go home. And now, for my next trick—I'll make myself disappear." Both Sam and Dean snorted.

"He _is_ my brother," the third Dean nodded, impressed at the attitude of the younger man in the situation.


	12. You're Gonna Be A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters face their pasts, and find strengths in themselves.

**You're Gonna be a Hero**

_**We are all subject to the fates. But we must act as if we are not, or die of despair. ~Philip Pullman** _

* * *

_"He_ is _my brother," the third Dean nodded, impressed at the attitude of the younger man in the situation._

Sam sighed.

"Okay, look—you get out. You do. Every time it's out of the frying pan and into the fire, but you don't have to deal with him anymore. By the time you're me, he's dead. Not just locked up. Dead—Michael too. Don't just give in. Dean's right—real life is different than that pain. He tries to screw with you, but you know, you _know_ what it's really like."

And his hallucinating counterpart faded away.

"What—well, okay. Heart-to-heart time. Dean will be here a while," little Sam chuckled. The college student laughed along with him.

" _Sammy_ ," whined the youngest Dean, "You little bitch."

"Jerk," responded the kid.

Adam looked over his shoulder at his older brothers.

"I'll deal with me . . . you guys good?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Sure, Adam. Have your therapy session, and we'll have ours. Be sure to use good communication skills," Dean said sarcastically.

"Okay, yeah—now first of all, douchebag," Adam began, facing his high school self, "You honestly have no idea. No clue. Friggen bully, picking on Mark."

"A bully," the teen raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yeah, really. You're like the stereotypical douche of the movie that gets the hot cheerleader type at the beginning, but gets beat up by the end," the college student responded, eyes narrowed.

"How do you figure that? I just rough him up a little, no harm done."

"No _harm_ done?! Bull!" growled Adam's most recent duplicate. "I roomed with him in college. We became friends. You know what he admitted to me? He cut himself, thanks to all of your comments. He hated himself, hated me. I will _never_ forgive myself for what I did to him, all right? I put that kid through hell. Not literally, but close enough to it. Don't you dare . . . try and justify . . ."

The bully was gone. The college version frowned.

"What the—I—okay. So to get back to business. I really don't want to know what the hell I'm going to go through that brings me to _them_ or makes me cast a spell to do this. Just . . . Is Mom all right?"

"Best place you can be, she's there. She's happy," said the next one quietly. _Heaven._

Sam worked with his past selves until he was left with the college student and the little kid. Dean got down to his kid self and the demon, having told his apocalyptic counterpart basically the opposite of the Croatoan Lucifer's speech—that every detail he altered, every choice that he made—it mattered. When Adam had dismissed his last version, he waved and told his older brothers he'd see them in a few.

"I don't care, honestly. Whatever you tell me isn't gonna make me _accept_ myself or whatever shit you're gonna try and pull," shrugged the demon, "So I guess you're stuck with me."

"Maybe it's not what he has to say to you," guessed Sam, "But what your younger self thinks."

"You really are me, then? And you—turned into a demon. Want to kill Sam."

"All of the above, and then some."

"Then you're not really me. You're just an empty shell. 'Cause nothing would make me want to hurt Sammy." Ironically, that was all it took.

"Y'know, whatever comes your way, whatever pain—I think it's all worth it, in the end. We're not at the end yet but things are looking up now. There are people in our life that we care about, and people worth fighting for," Sam told his college version.

"More than Dean and Dad, then?"

"Yeah, your archangel boyfriend for one," Dean called over, grinning widely. Sam blushed.

"Like you get to talk. The constant staring contests between you and Cas were so uncomfortable."

"Shut up."

"Archangel boyfriend?" College Sam raised his eyebrows. "Not the Devil I hope, or I'm not looking forward to the future."

"Gabriel. He—he screwed around, got Dean killed on purpose a hundred some times, trapped us in TV shows, but he risked his life for us and now . . . he's redeeming himself. And he's a dog person with a massive sweet tooth."

The student frowned, unsure of what to make of it.

"Don't worry Sammy, he's completely crazy, they both are," said the kid Dean to kid Sam.

"Yeah. That's why I think they're telling the truth."

"What?"

"Come on, Dean. I've wanted out from the beginning. Does the fact that I ran away _really_ surprise you?"

" . . . no. You deserve a little normal, Sammy. Even if it ends up being a crazy angel boyfriend and hunting again, I bet like your older self said . . . it's worth it." The college kid disappeared a few moments later.

"Yeah, kid—listen," Dean looked his younger self in the eye.

"Things are gonna change, all right? We're gonna be the best we can be. Don't think otherwise. Dad made us hunters, but we stuck with it, we're hunters in our bones. Yeah he's not there. But don't think for a second he didn't try, all right? Our job is to protect Sammy. But y'know what his job is?" The kid frowned and disappeared.

"Well that's my cue. Seeya, fellas." Dean was gone. Sam sighed.

"All right, mini-me. I'm just going to tell you now so you get it."

"We're . . . different, aren't we? The guy that didn't care, the other one looked scared of his own shadow." the kid asked, looking up. "We're messed up. We're fre—"

"Don't say it, all right? Because it's not true. We. Are. Not. Freaks. You're not a freak. A little screwy, but anyone else would be if they were in our place. Don't hate yourself, okay? You've done nothing wrong."

"But I'm going to," the kid insisted, looking around. Sam sighed.

"Yeah. You're going to make a lot of big mistakes and bad decisions. But you'll make up for it, okay? You'll be fine, I know it."

"Are you fine, after it all though?" And damn, the kid knew him, the kid _was_ him—'fine' was 'fine', but it was also 'attempting to cope with things and pretty much failing'.

"I'm happy enough for now. Everything seems to fall apart one time after another but . . . things aren't too terrible, despite the gloom and doom. I'll tell you one more time, okay? You're not a freak. You're . . . you're gonna save the world, just you on your own, okay? You're gonna be a hero." The kid's eyes widened, and he disappeared, along with the mirrored room.

Sam felt oddly peaceful after that.

"I'm done with the therapy session. I need a beer." Dean grumbled.

"Make it three," Adam advised.

"Why not six?"

Gabriel and Castiel had popped in, and Gabriel chose that moment to set up an impromptu minibar in the kitchen He started fixing drinks and grinning manically, a curled mustache on his lip for effect.

"What'll it be, fellas?"

Eva snorted from the living room, a larger Devil's Trap painted on the underside of the wall-to-wall carpet.

"Someone pass me a margarita, okay? I haven't had one in ages."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major Sam feels when I wrote this, as I'd just seen Just My Imagination at that point. I wish I'd done a better job of labeling the various past!Sams and past!Deans, but it felt awkward to go with Stanford!Sam and Deanmon etc within the writing of the fic itself. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing. Also, the bit about Adam being a bully kind of pulls from Jake Abel's character in I Am Number Four, but he learned from his mistakes of course.


	13. Have Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara is gaining ground, and Eva is gaining trust.

**Have Faith**

_**You can only come to the morning through the shadows. ~J.R.R. Tolkien** _

* * *

They got a job with a violent haunting. Dean was all for it in light of their current trial—to "answer an innocent's prayer". There really wasn't much they could do directly yet, so hunting it was. Unfortunately it wasn't a ghost—it was a serial killer, one that Castiel and Gabriel both claimed had no soul.

"So what brings you here, then?" Dean asked the guy once they'd gotten him alone and disarmed.

"Finally," the scrawny man grinned, "Y'see, I was nothing. Just a plain old Joe that got kicked around by anyone who cared to use me as a stepping ladder. But I remembered. And all those emotions that stopped me? Gone! Thanks to that lovely woman outside the church . . . now I'm at peace with everything!"

"What was her name?" Castiel asked, frowning deeply.

"Amara."

* * *

"So she's sucking souls? I imagine that's boosting her power, or giving her leverage, something," Sam said once they'd returned to the bunker. He didn't like the idea of her making people soulless.

"That's what Crowley's doing with her then—supplying her with souls. Probably sends her up to half the people his demons would make deals with, then lets them kill what's left," mused Gabriel.

"What if he's biding his time to get her more souls?" asked Castiel with a frown. A chill ran through all of them. _Purgatory_ didn't even need to be said.

"Damn, we'd better hurry on this thing then," worried Sam.

"The next one's to answer a prayer of an innocent? Listen to Pray FM, Gabe, Cas—there's gotta be something we can do, right?"

"Answer an innocent's prayer . . . aren't a lot of innocents in the world these days," Gabe said.

"But they're usually the only ones that have it in them to pray," Dean countered.

"All right then. We'll take you each to a person that has a prayer, and let you do it," Castiel reasoned.

"Sounds fine to me—Eva, can you—"

"I can't tell the state of the soul of a person that's praying, Adam. I'm sorry, but someone's just going to have to help you." She shrugged. Adam frowned.

"When can we let her out?" he asked.

"When I see a reason to trust her," Dean replied, "Or if Sam does."

"She pulled me back to Earth. She taught me how to hunt. She risked her life against the hounds for us," Adam listed.

"All according to her 'mission' from God," Dean said, "I want her to prove it herself, not just because of orders."

"I don't have to follow orders, Dean," she interrupted. "I'm no one's puppet. Hell, I could've said no from the beginning and been struck down. I could have let Adam crawl out of his grave and let him figure out the rest. I didn't have to explain a thing to you—I shouldn't have at all. He talks about His plan on a few occasions, but never tells me how it all goes—wouldn't want to spoil the ending, He says. He has an overarching idea about how things should go, but sometimes the book writes itself, surprises him. Sometimes he intervenes so that certain plot points occur as he wishes, but He doesn't change His people from making decisions of their own."

"Huh," Adam frowned. _Sounds like an author._

"Well, the point stands . . . until you give me a reason to really trust you, what would you suggest?"

"I can tell you all the ways you can kill me," she offered, "It's not in any lore so no way to check, though. Or you could keep the dogs guarding me until I gain your trust . . . to be fair, I don't trust you either, since you're so quick to trap me after all my help. I get it, but I don't like it. And the thing about me hiding something, well, no one said you had to go ahead with anything I say."

"Eva, you know I trust you," Adam interrupted, "What I don't get is why you're willing to do all this."

"Because I'm tired, Adam. I'm tired of fighting distrust and hate, of playing people. That's what I always did with deals and torture—get my claws into a person, invest them in me, then leave them to burn and rot. I'm so . . . so tired of playing the manipulation game, when it's never gotten me anything of real value."

"Is that a part of your script, or . . . do you mean it?" Adam asked thoughtfully.

"Not you too," she groaned.

"I don't think . . . agh . . . I'm . . ."

"If I could lead you to God and tell Him to tell you how things will go down, I would!"

"Cain once said that Abel's visions from God were really Lucifer. Are you sure—" Sam frowned.

"I know the difference between my father and my grandfather. I'm not an idiot."

"But you could be lying about everything."

"Then why are you continuing the trials?" she asked.

"It's all we have," Sam replied.

"And the trials check out by me, as far as I can remember. It was just a story, but I should've known that it was true," Gabriel shrugged.

"We were just reminded of what it's like to be betrayed, and we're stopping it from happening again," said Dean.

"And this isn't betrayal? Locking up someone who has only helped you?" Castiel suddenly asked. Dean's brow furrowed.

"I—"

"Eva . . . I understand, Dean, that she reminds you only of things that have caused pain. And I don't particularly like her keeping secrets. Believe me when I say that I know what leads to betrayal, and being treated like a traitor is one way to do it." Dean stared at the ground.

"I regret doing what I've done against you, for example . . . but now I think we must move past things . . . or the Darkness will most definitely consume us." Castiel's words weighed heavy in their minds—indeed, the Darkness would not hesitate to use their weaknesses.

Dean scratched out one mark in the trap, and Eva bowed her head.

"Thank you for . . . letting me out. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I'd better not."

Adam had a hard look on his face as he brought her into the kitchen.

"Am I part of some game? Am I part of God's plan for you? Or did you choose to find me?"

"I was told, verbatim, 'Save people. Bring the five to power. Raise the lost brother.' A couple extra details—the Trials, for example, and a list of the angels resurrected. But he only ordered that, and to keep some things to myself. And gave a few suggestions otherwise. The guy gets on my nerves," she shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because He answers, but He doesn't give me an endgame. He just acts all mysterious and smiles and I take it as it is, because He's God, but I really wish I wouldn't so I could smack Him around and actually hold an argument against Him," sighing, she stretched. "He's really an asshole that way."

"Not helping out directly seems in general to be a dick move," Adam agreed. "What, He can't get His hands dirty?"

"That's what I'd like to ask," Eva sighed, "But, as most mortals in church would say, 'Have faith'. I guess we'll have to run on that until He decides to answer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Plush" killer I oversimplified and gave to Amara, mostly for the plot that was going already (anyone get a FNAF feeling from that episode? Nah?) and kinda gave the dude motivation that I'd have if I were soulless like those in the show, because I think about that kind of stuff. Also it was difficult to keep the tension between Eva and Dean, but who else but Cas could break that?


	14. Prayers: If Found, Send to the Winchesters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three prayers are answered-for protection, for healing, for hope.

**Prayers: If Found, Send to the Winchesters**

_**A sunbeam to warm you,** _

_**A moonbeam to charm you,** _

_**A sheltering angel, so nothing can harm you.** _

_**~Irish Blessing** _

* * *

Castiel asked Dean what kind of prayer he'd be okay with answering. There were a lot of them out there.

"Well, uh . . . anything involving stopping a monster? That seems to be the easiest—"

"In a sense, though not a supernatural monster," Castiel frowned, his eyes closed. "A human monster."

"A little more info?"

"Sorry, I can only hear the prayer itself and where it's coming from . . . _He's coming again. Please stop him. I didn't do anything to deserve this. Why isn't Mom coming?"_

"Can you take me there once I grab a knife and a gun?"

"An FBI badge may be a good choice, to, or some sort of credentials to not scare the people involved."

"Good idea . . . a police one, though . . . other than that, I'll wing it," Dean shrugged, and Castiel brought them to a small suburban house. Dean made his way into the building, listening quietly and not making himself known. The front door was unlocked.

"Who said the prayer?"

"Maria Wilcox, a fourteen-year-old girl. She's upstairs with her stepfather, and her mother Jenna is in a separate room herself."

"Can you check the mom?"

A few moments later Castiel was frowning. She apparently had been drugged, asleep on her bed so deep that a train could crash through the house and she'd keep snoring.

"I purged the drugs from her system, but left her asleep."

"Can you—I've got it from here," an idea seemed to overtake Dean. He stalked to the bedroom where he heard a high-pitched whimper and a low whisper. He couldn't let it get any farther.

A forceful growl ripped from his throat as he shouted, "This is the police! Freeze!"

Maria squeaked from the other side of the door. Dean opened it himself— _geez, this family doesn't know anything about keeping people out_ —and entered the room. The middle-aged man had his hands up in a flash, but not before Dean saw—Maria had bruises across her ribs, and clearly his hands had been wandering in forbidden places.

"Sir, I suggest you come with me," Dean glared, "My partner is downstairs to hold you while I check on Maria here."

"I didn't _do_ anything, officer," the man pleaded.

"I don't think you're in a position to argue, _sir_ ," Dean replied, holding his gun a little higher but not taking aim. Dean softly called Castiel to take the man downstairs. He'd done so, but not without making some noise. Dean was checking on

A shout alerted them to the fact that Mrs. Wilcox had apparently woken up.

"Maria! Charles!"

"Ma'am, I'm Officer Dan Walker, you called 911 if you're Mrs. Jenna Wilcox. I was sent to check on you because you'd called and your speech was slurred before you hung up. Do you remember making the call?" The woman frowned.

"I . . . no."

"My partner and I came because we were the only ones free at that moment. I came in to find Charles here in the process of abusing Maria." The young girl stared, wide-eyed.

" _Thank you_ , officer, I . . . he's tried three times now, but I always got away. He warned me if I told Mom she'd be hurt . . . and . . . oh, God, you're a freaking _hero_ officer, I _prayed_ , he was too fast for me this time and I . . . I just . . ."

Dean didn't have it in him to push her. Jenna was clearly distraught.

"He _hurt you_ , Maria . . . how . . . I'm so _sorry_ ," the mother was close to tears.

"I'm glad I got here in time," Dean only said with a tired smile, "Don't worry. Is there anything you need?"

"Just one thing—a way to thank you. I mean, I don't have much to give, but—I can't _imagine_ . . . I was drugged and he . . . that son of a bitch drugged me and nearly . . ." her face contorted with momentary rage, but softened again as Maria gripped her mother in a hug.

"Well, I don't think you need to press charges. My partner Victor and I will take care of him. And . . . just take care of one another, all right?"

"Is there _anything_?" Dean glanced at Castiel, who had handcuffed the man with mojo-ed up handcuffs and was clearly playing cop well.

"No, ma'am, I've got all I need."

* * *

Adam hung around with Gabriel, Sam, and Eva.

"So . . . prayers?"

"Give me a minute! I'm a little rusty on the whole 'Archangel Herald' thing. Been a couple thousand years." But after a short amount of time, Gabriel was rattling off prayers he was hearing.

"Wife's in the hospital. Wants an A on a test. Lottery numbers. Grandma's sick. Drug junkie wants to detox. Car accident."

"I'll take the car accident," Adam said suddenly, "Mind taking me?"

"Yeah, sure." Gabriel snapped, and Adam was gone with an extensive medical kit that he'd mostly only read about.

" . . . Other prayers?" Sam asked.

"There's a dad looking for his missing daughter, who we can probably find."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Adam found the couple in the crushed car. He could hear the guy whispering.

"Please be alive, Emma, please, don't go, we've got to get out."

"Hey! Let's get you two out of there!" Adam called, yanking the already loose door open, off the car entirely.

"I'll get you two out. Have you got a working phone?"

"Yeah, in my back pocket," the guy carefully maneuvered the girl out of the car first, and crawled out after.

"Okay, call 911. I'll do what I can in the meantime," Adam assured. "Thank god I'm pre-med, not pre-law. I'll try and help." Adam looked over her body with a frown—she was still breathing, but she was bleeding badly. And her arm looked broken. So he got out the splint that Gabriel had sent him with and ripped up some gauze to wrap around her stomach area.

The cut to her shoulder looked like it needed stitches, so Adam started that, too. He made sure again, checking her pulse and her breathing—it was somewhat lower than normal, but the blood loss made that make sense. He continued with the stitches and finished quickly.

"That looks like all she needs for now—are you all right?" The guy shrugged.

"A little shaken but fine. I don't need anything I think. How is she?"

"I stopped the bleeding and set her arm back, so she should generally be okay. Looks like real doctors are on their way, since you called. I'd better get out of the way."

"But you saved us—you gotta stay," the guy pleaded. Adam frowned, but nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Mark, you?" Adam frowned and looked harder at the guy, who was older than he remembered and certainly more beat up.

"Adam. Do I—do I know you?"

"Wait, Adam Milligan?" The guy stared in wonder.

"You haven't changed at _all_ man! What, what are the odds?" laughed Mark incredulously.

"I dunno, man," Adam shrugged. He added, as an afterthought, "God works in mysterious ways."

"I guess you're a real doctor now?"

"Nah . . . stuff happened. Family things, y'know? Actually found out about my dad—turns out I have two older brothers."

"Got a girlfriend?" Clearly with the worried smile, Mark was just distracting himself.

"Yeah, her name's Eva. She's great. What about Emma here?"

"I was gonna propose to her . . . assuming she makes it out of this," he said quietly. Adam could hear the sirens.

"Well, uh—you know what . . . give me your number, and I'll text you so you have mine, okay? I should really stay out of the way of the real doctors."

"Uh, okay man—you're coming, right?"

"No, I can't . . . I was actually on my way to meet up with Eva, and I don't want her to worry. She doesn't like it when I'm late," he lied quickly. Mark gave him his number with a frown.

The ambulances and police cars came.

"I'll see you, okay? And we'll talk more."

"Wait—how'd you get here? There isn't another car," Mark frowned.

"Don't worry, Mark, just go—they have to check on you, too. It's great seeing you, man," Adam grinned, waving. Mark looked confused, but went with the medic.

"I'm good, Gabriel. You can bring me back."

* * *

Sam found the runaway girl far away. She was seventeen, a glaring, unhappy ball of teenage angst. He sat down on the park bench next to her. She glanced a few times, but said nothing.

"That's a lot to carry," he mentioned as she picked up a large duffel and a stuffed backpack.

"Yeah, I got it."

"No, let me help." He picked up her bag and let her shoulder the backpack.

"Even _I_ know that's a bad idea," she said, glaring up at him. He repressed a chuckle and smiled.

"Let's just go to wherever you're going. Or if you don't have a place in mind, we can stop at a coffee place, I'll buy you a coffee or a muffin or whatever you want, and leave you be. It's a little cold out to be just sitting at the park, right?"

"Not a bar?"

"Yeah. I'm not about to get a seventeen-year-old drunk. Believe it or not, I could use a coffee too. We can sit, chat . . . and I'll let you decide from there. If you need to make any calls, you can use my phone, and I can walk you to a bus stop. I'm not some creep." She studied his face, then nodded.

"Okay. You're buying."

"Of course." They went to the nearest Starbucks, and she set down her bags. They each ordered—her, a fancy caramel something or another and a blueberry muffin. He just asked for a plain coffee, sugar, no cream.

"So. Why suddenly decide to treat a stranger? You haven't touched my drink, so you're not gonna be able to take me anywhere I don't want to go."

"I see you've got a duffel and a stuffed backpack. You weren't staring at a phone, which means you weren't contacting anyone to pick you up. I might have run away from home myself once." She stared at him, frown growing.

"Are you trying to talk me into going back?" she asked bitterly.

"Kinda, but only because, from experience, running away . . . doesn't fix anything. Just lets the problem grow until it blows up in your face, and it wouldn't have been as bad if you just worked it out from the beginning."

"So once you went back, everything was fixed," she rolled her eyes.

"Nope. Got worse, mostly because of me, and I still haven't fixed everything. But y'know, I think it was worth it. And I think it's getting better. Some stuff will never be perfect but . . . not much you can do about that."

"I have anxiety attacks. And my parents think I'm faking it. 'Carly, calm down. There's nothing around to freak you out. Carly, not this again, what have I told you about freaking out in public.'" Sam frowned.

"That's a disorder. Not something to laugh at, either. That's not fair to you . . ."

"Try telling them that," she chuckled dryly. "But regardless, I figure . . . better leave before I burden them with crazy they can't understand."

"Y'know, my brother had to deal with me being completely mental. Like, 'hallucinations of the Devil everywhere I went' crazy. He kept me going for a while, even taught me to deal with it as best I could in public, and he got me help. He didn't give up on me. I've abandoned him a lot, but he's never abandoned me, not really. I'm done running away now . . ."

"Then what do I do? They'll just say that I'm looking for attention."

"Maybe talk to a counselor at school?"

"Right," she scoffed, "The guys that are just there to help us pick colleges that'll look good for them to say, hey, we've got alumni at this school."

"Better than nothing. Maybe . . . if you go home, wait a few weeks for the chaos to die off, then bring it up. If you don't make it look like a part of a tantrum, they'll be more likely to take you seriously." She sighed.

"Why do I feel like I'm talking to my cousin . . . he could argue himself out of anything I say . . . of course, he thinks he'll be a hotshot lawyer when he's older."

"Heh, I was pre-law in college. Dropped out though."

"Okay. So I'll go back. On one condition." Sam was surprised—she had been so stubborn. But then again, so was he.

"And what's that?"

"Can you take me back?"

"I don't want them thinking I kidnapped you," Sam put up his hands, but sighed. "If that's what it takes. I know they must be worried. Praying you come back, contacting anyone who might have seen you." She snorted.

"They don't pray. None of us are exactly religious." _Apparently when people get desperate, they believe a little more,_ Sam mused.

"Where's your place then?"

"Half a mile down. I've been hanging around in the area until I could get a ride to my cousin's house."

"Your sort of lawyer cousin?"

"No," she rolled her eyes, "He's too straight-laced. My drummer cousin. But it's not happening, so . . . thanks."

She led him down the street to a suburban neighborhood, full of those cookie-cutter houses. A minivan was in the driveway.

_Gabe, could you take me home before her parents get to the door?_

_Sure, Sambo._

She rang the doorbell and set down her bags.

"Thanks, uh—hey, what's your name?"

"Sam." He gave a small smile, "Just, try to work it out, so I don't have a heart attack over finding out you went missing again."

"No problem, she chuckled, turning to face the door as it opened.

"Good luck, Carly."

"Thanks Sam, I—" She turned, but he was gone. Vanished. Absolutely nowhere to be seen.


	15. Angel Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva explains, and Cas and Dean talk.

**Angel Wings**

_**What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it. ~Ezra Pound** _

* * *

"Why would he tell you what's going on if you can't tell anyone else," Dean asked. He and Eva had settled into a tense stalemate—while she continued on, aloof and polite, Dean was just slightly more on edge every time he shared a room with her. Sam wasn't on edge, but he did admit to having doubts. Gabriel treated her like any other member of their little team, and Castiel didn't talk much with her, but it didn't seem out of place.

Adam continued as her boyfriend, defending her and warning Dean not to go too far, but he never had to step in between them again.

"Hell if I know," she shrugged, "On the plus side, these trials won't kill you. I made sure of that, since that would be a deal breaker and He'd just have to man up and deal with it if not."

"Something's been bothering me, though—when these new angels come around . . . who's going to be their vessels?" Sam asked.

"That's a good point. They'll be archangels, so a true vessel is all that they can use. With the grace being as it is, will we still have to say yes?" asked Adam thoughtfully.

"Not to being vessels, but you will have to make some choices. I—" Her eyes lit up, literally as she cut off. Black again, shining brightly.

" _God Almighty. Grandfather. Please aid me in completing these trials. Please save them from further pain and loss. Why hide from them Your Plan when they have followed it for so long?"_ Gabriel stared as she spoke.

"What the hell is that?" A flash of light left her crumpled on the ground.

"EVA!" Adam picked her up and laid her on a bed as soon as possible.

"That's like a prophet receiving the Word; I've never seen anything like that before on anyone inhuman," Gabriel frowned.

"Is she all right? Can you tell?" Adam asked.

"She's . . . yeah, she's fine." With a sudden gasp of breath, she sat upright.

"Damn it, Gramps, could you be a little less theatrical?" she cursed, breathing heavily.

"What was that all about?" frowned Sam.

"Well, He gave me permission to explain a bit more. The Heavenly Trials are meant to create new angels . . . by turning humans into angels, fusing them with Grace. Specifically, those who complete the trials. In birth order, you will each get your respective your respective archangel's Grace—if you choose to continue. Dean will be the new replacement for Michael. Sam will be Lucifer 2.0. And Adam will take Raphael's place." She sighed.

"And apparently he's encouraging me to be something powerful too, but I'm holding on the offer until I know more."

"He wants us to turn into angels. Not just be vessels," clarified Dean, frown deepening.

"If it's any consolation, you'd be the Archangel of Hunters, if what I know about you is enough to go by. I dunno about what Sam or Adam specifically would be patrons of, but . . . you'd have a far easier time staying alive," Eva pointed out, "And you and Cas could stay together literally forever—you wouldn't have to die, go to Heaven, and get visits when he's off the job."

"And everyone you know who died, you can visit," continued Gabriel nonchalantly.

"Really?" Sam asked, eyes widening at the thought.

"But it's permanent. No flipping the switch. You do this, you're in it for the long haul. Presumably forever," warned Eva. "That's why He said I could tell you. To ease up on the freaking secrecy and to warn you that if you keep going, well, it's pretty much the only thing we've got up our sleeves, but it's also a pain. Forever's a long time."

* * *

Dean stared across the living room at reruns of mindless shows, but he wasn't really watching anyway.

"Dean?"

It was Castiel. Hesitantly he sat close to Dean, putting an arm around the hunter's shoulders.

"Hey, Cas . . . what do you think about it? Me, being an angel?"

" . . . I don't know, Dean. I don't know how it would affect you, or what difficulties come with it that would bother you. What are you worried about?"

"Everything, I guess. Even if I was an angel, how much help could I be against Amara? Let's be honest here."

"I don't know. I've never gone up against her, never seen her fight."

"Will I even be any good as an angel?" Dean laughed humorlessly, "I mean, I'm barely enough as a human . . ."

"Don't you ever think about yourself that way again," Castiel warned, "Or I'll be forced to silence you."

Dean smirked. "Really? How do you plan on doing that?"

Castiel frowned.

"Simple."

"Cas, I ju—" Dean was cut off by a kiss. He was perfectly fine with this method of shutting him up.

"I will spend the rest of eternity proving to you that you are worthy of far greater things than you allow yourself to have, Dean, if that's how long it takes." He paused, and then stood, backing up a couple steps.

"I can show you a fraction of what it means to be an angel," he said cautiously. Dean's face brightened. The idea of seeing Cas—not Jimmy, though he supposed it was all Cas now anyway—was something he'd imagined before.

"How?"

"I can bring my wings onto this plane without burning your eyes out instead of throwing shadows. I asked Gabriel about some of the changes between seraph and archangel, and now I have a better grasp of what my grace and my wings do. I also now have six wings instead of two," he explained.

"Well, then, I'd love to see them—if you want to show me," Dean said, unsure of what was allowed with wings but most definitely excited to see them.

"Close your eyes, just in case. I want to be sure I have them under control and most certainly do not want to burn your eyes out," Castiel warned. Dean nodded, trying not to seem too eager, and closed his eyes, holding both of Castiel's hands as they stood facing one another.

Castiel, for his part, was nervous, because he'd not shown anyone his wings, angel or human, for a very long time. He was unsure of what the upgrade to archangel had done to them, and he was definitely at least a little self-conscious—the last time he'd looked at his own wings, they were severely damaged. He allowed his grace to shine through his human form enough that they manifested, then kept them on the plane of reality his vessel existed on, allowing the grace to recede.

"You may open your eyes now, Dean." The green orbs opened, and for a moment it seemed that he couldn't see. That wasn't true, exactly.

He couldn't see much besides the wings—the largest, highest ones spanned the room, blocking his view of anything but Castiel. The lowest pair spread a little longer than Dean's armspan, and the middle pair was between the two in size as well. Once Dean got over the sheer size, he could appreciate what they were.

They appeared strong and dangerous, despite the way they curved inwards towards Dean as if to shield him. Each individual ink-black feather seemed to be strong enough to cut through bone like a knife through butter.

But they weren't just black; blue also glistened within the dark plumage like shattered stained glass glowing in the ebony feathers.

Along the right middle wing, Dean's gaze fell upon a grayer, less vibrant section, and saw indeed that a scar left a portion of that wing with considerably less feathers.

"What happened for that to be there?" he found himself asking.

"Hellfire," Castiel said simply, "Even my true form has some battle scars." Dean stared, transfixed at the wings. He was breathless for a few moments.

"They're so _beautiful,_ " he said, and Castiel shivered, because he'd never _dream_ of hearing Dean saying something like that about him, much less in the awestruck voice he had used.

"You're welcome to touch them, if you'd like." Dean ran a hand through the nearest feathers—soft and smooth like silk, leaving a buzzing feeling along his skin that made the hair on his arms stand up. A grin grew on the hunter's face as he explored more.

"They're really soft, too," he murmured. "They're perfect." Castiel swooped in closer, capturing his boyfriend in a kiss, wrapping his wings around the man he would give everything for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel feeeeels
> 
> Okay so I made them sappy, can you blame me? The long stares, the "profound bond" . . . it had to be that way. Plus this is how I imagine Castiel's wings to legitimately look. I'm working on some art for this fic to represent the archangels by the end. Here's hoping I figure out how to draw wings correctly!


	16. The Roadhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a heavenly visit for the angels and the brothers. They meet some familiar faces there.

**The Roadhouse**

_**It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't. ~Barbara Kingsolver** _

* * *

Adam pulled out the tablet, curious, and frowned.

_Gain the Blessing of your Parents for the Road Ahead_

Well that wasn't exactly going to be easy, as every form of parent they had were dead. Their dad, both the moms, and Bobby, who Adam understood as Sam and Dean's surrogate father when John wasn't around.

"I have an idea of what I want, then. I said I was going to be a Winchester. If this is what that means—sacrificing myself for the sake of the world, being something new that people haven't dealt with before, well, count me in."

"You make it sound so easy," Eva said wistfully, "Changing the very essence of what you are. Wish I had that kind of confidence in my ability to do the right thing."

"Why? What does God want from you?"

"I'm supposed to be the next Death. I don't know if I can do that—taking lives constantly," she sighed.

"But you'd be moving them on to where they deserve to be," Adam pointed out.

"I'd never be able to touch another person again without killing them," she frowned, "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Isn't Death's ring removable?" he asked. She chuckled lightly.

"And where would I put it? In my shoes? Come on, it can't be that easy. Nothing is ever that easy. Just because the ring isn't on my finger doesn't mean I won't still be Death, right? Will I even be me anymore? How can He ask me to do this?" And Adam couldn't answer.

* * *

Gabriel was kissing Sam.

"Just think, Samsquatch. You, me, and all the mojo-fueled fun time in the universe. In between stopping the end of the world and all." He waggled his eyebrows with a grin.

"Yeah I just . . . being Lucifer's successor? Really?"

"Doesn't mean you have to be the Devil, y'know. You're too good to be that." Sam snorted.

"Right. The boy with the demon blood, too good for something."

"I mean it! Sam, despite every twist and turn, despite everything that demons and angels have done to you . . . you're still so sweet, so wonderful, so fundamentally _good_. I'm not joking here."

"Gabe," Sam sighed, disbelieving but accepting what the archangel said was what he believed.

"Your soul is beautiful," Gabe blurted after a few moments. Sam frowned.

"What? It's probably tainted black after all I've done; don't lie to me."

"No, no—Sam . . . Cassie told me he once told Dean how he shined like the sun. I've seen him, and I've seen you. And I agree-he's like the sun from a distance here on Earth, I'm sure Cas could compose a hundred poems about it. But you, Sam? You're the sun up close—hot, burning, changing, bright. I'm not a poem person but I'm sure I could go on for years . . . Trust me, I've seen the sun, I see you, and it's as accurate as it gets." Sam stared at Gabriel, wondering how odd it was—the runaways finding each other, falling fast and hard—

"I love you, Gabriel."

The surprise of six golden wings materializing instantaneously at that moment was nearly comical, but both of them just smiled and kissed again.

* * *

It was time to call on Balthazar and Samandriel. They had access to the human side of heaven after having been resurrected, so they could get Sam, Adam, and Dean where they needed to be. Eva wasn't allowed upstairs—her demon side would raise alarms—and Castiel was still considered a threat to some of the angels in charge. That left Gabriel to help them get to the correct personal heavens.

"There's a really easy intersection. The Roadhouse has kind of been a meeting place for your families. We just have to step through a couple of areas in your own heavens, and off we go," Balthazar shrugged.

Gabriel added, "I gotta keep my influence to a minimum, though—don't want the other angels catching me around." So Samandriel smuggled Adam's soul up, Gabriel took Sam's, and Balthazar took Dean's.

It wasn't long before they found each other at the bar. Samandriel and Balthazar each shrugged and ordered drinks, Gabriel following suit and looking for the sweetest thing available. Ellen, who greeted them all warmly, hastily got to work.

"But how do we know they'll all be here?" Sam asked.

"Simple. I checked with them myself, pretending to be a stranger, asked them to come here. Should be a family reunion in a minute or so," Balthazar grinned. Gabriel wrapped a hand around the seraph's shoulder.

"I'm glad to see you again, bro," he smirked.

The first to enter, surprisingly, was Kate Milligan. The sight of her son in the bar shocked her.

"Adam . . . how are you here?"

"I'm only gonna be here a while mom," he said with a sheepish smile, "You got to know John a bit better, I guess?"

"And his wife," she sighed, "She's very kind. What do you mean, you won't be here long? Sweetie, this is—"

"Heaven. I'm here on business, sort of. Made some angel friends, I guess you could say," he gestured to Gabe, Balthazar, and Samandriel, who were laughing together at the bar, "And I didn't come alone. With Sam and Dean—my brothers, Mary Winchester's sons," he explained, introducing her to them. Kate's lips were pursed when she shook her hands, but broke out into a grin when they'd politely introduced themselves.

"And here I thought you'd been raised by wolves, the way John never seemed to mention you when we first met."

The next person was Bobby, who Sam and Dean enveloped in a big bear hug.

"You idjits managed to kick the bucket again?" he huffed.

"This time it's temporary and on purpose," Sam assured. "We're trying to lock down this thing called the Darkness—it's God's sister. The last time she was around it took all four archangels and God to lock her up in the first place."

"And is that the archangel that I stabbed when he was a trickster?" Bobby asked with a frown, glancing at the bar.

"Yeah, that's the archdick," Dean replied, and added, with a sly smirk, "Sammy's boyfriend."

" _Dude_ , you can't do that," Sam groaned in embarrassment.

"Well, I assume Dean got his head out of his ass and asked Castiel out, then?" Bobby replied, amused. Dean spluttered.

"I—well—uh—" Bobby saved him the trouble of explaining with a grousing demand.

"So tell me what I missed. Not like I get updates here on the TV like football scores."

"Well . . ." Sam began explaining what had happened since he last saw Bobby. Dean filled in other points. It was a quick summary, full of holes, until they got to the part about the Trials.

"And the fifth trial is getting the blessing of our parents to do what we're gonna do with this," Dean finished.

"Well, I sure as hell don't like the sound of her. I say give it all you've got," Bobby nodded.

"So my sons are becoming angels," John Winchester summarized, having entered silently during the conversation. Sam and Dean jumped, shocked.

" _Dad_ ," Dean said, voice cracking slightly.

"Adam, you have my blessing, sweetie," Kate said a few moments later, "Just remember to visit once in a while once this whole Darkness business is over with, okay?" Adam smiled, if a bit tearfully.

"All three of you, then?"

"Yeah. Just a question, though . . . why in hell would you leave, your last words be about killing Sam?" Dean growled. John's gaze dropped to the floor.

"I'm sorry. If I'd had more time to explain . . . it wasn't right of me. And clearly I was wrong to think you'd ever do it," he sighed, "Bobby's filled me in on the other parts of life that I've missed. You have no idea how sorry I am, both of you . . . and Sam?" The younger Winchester looked up.

"I remember what you said to me, back with Michael and all that. I didn't remember until I died, but I do. And I'm sorry, again," he looked pleadingly into his son's eyes.

"I've already forgiven you . . . just wish we could've had more time on Earth, y'know," Sam half-sighed, half-chuckled.

"Where's Mom?" Dean asked.

"I thought everyone was coming over?" Balthazar frowned. "I made sure to contact their parents. I spoke with her."

"Is she all right?" John immediately looked worried.

"I got here first, honey, I was just waiting to hear what was going on," Mary assured, standing up from a booth behind John.

"Mom," Dean breathed. Sam stared—this was even more than just meeting his younger mom. This woman, whom he'd only been in the presence of for six months, was _his mother_.

"Dean. Sam. My baby boys," tears glistened in her eyes as she opened her arms and approached them. And Sam got his first hug from his mom.

"You're both so _big_ ," she marveled.

"You met us when you were younger," Dean smirked, "You knew how tall Sammy'd get."

"Doesn't change the fact that I haven't seen either of you since I could carry you both in my arms," she smiled sadly. "I love you two so much."

"Mom," Sam said hesitantly, the word unfamiliar on his mouth. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him again, before backing away.

"Now," her hands rested on her hips, "Who's Sam's supposed boyfriend? And when do I get to meet this Castiel, Dean?" Both boys' faces colored, and Adam laughed at the awkwardness until—

"Well, Adam, do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Kate asked innocently. Gabriel hopped up from his stool and strode up to the Winchester family.

"I'm the archangel Gabriel, Sam's boyfriend," he said, holding out his hand to shake. John begrudgingly took it, eyeing Gabriel's mischievous smirk. Rather than shaking his hand, Mary hugged him, too, which he didn't expect but welcomed nonetheless.

"You're becoming archangels to save the world?" Mary asked, confirming the explanation.

"Yep."

"And when it's over, you'll live on Earth mostly and help out, but you'll visit?"

"Of course!" Dean exclaimed. Given the chance, he wasn't letting the opportunity to visit his family again go by.

"Then I don't see why not to give you both my blessing. And Dean, next time you can, you _have_ to bring Castiel so I can meet him properly." Dean felt heat rise up his neck, but nodded.

"Of course, Mom."

Eyes went to John.

"Obviously you three have my blessing. Otherwise the world's going to end, right? I know you boys will do it," he smiled, "You make me proud. I know I've never given you a reason to think so. But you do."

Dean stiffened. This was what had tipped him off that it wasn't John before, when it had been a trick. But there was no immediate danger here. John had no reason to criticize Dean. He had time to be sincere.

And a tiny sliver of smile graced Dean's face as he nodded, said his goodbyes, and had the three angels take them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: My inspiration for this trial was Percy Jackson's need to talk to his mom before bathing in the River Styx. Also Saabrieeel! (I am Sabriel trash even more than I am Destiel trash, so yeah)


	17. The King at Our Doorstep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go on a vampire hunt, and Crowley has information.

**The King at Our Doorstep**

_**May the devil chase you every day of your life and never catch you. ~Irish Toast** _

* * *

The next task was confusing even though it was straightforward.

"We don't have our own angel blades," Sam said with a frown.

"' _Have a Servant of God Purify your Angel Blade in Holy Fire_.' Well. That's specific," said Adam.

"Servant of God—a priest or religious person who's sincere, check, we can find one of those. Holy fire, easy. Angel blades, no dice," Gabriel counted off on his fingers.

"Unless they already exist, and you haven't had access to them yet," said Eva with a small smirk, taking off her necklace. "You haven't noticed because you haven't needed them, but neither of you two have been able to summon your angel blades or heavenly armor, correct?" Gabriel and Castiel glanced at one another.

She took the two empty vials with gold and iron feathers, and crushed the glass in her hand. The feathers remained.

"Gabriel, you're an archangel, have been this whole time. You know what this is," she said, dropping the gold feather into his hand. She turned and did the same with the dark, wrought iron one in Cas's hand.

"Oh, I see," Gabriel drawled, blowing a pink bubble and continuing to chew gum obnoxiously as he had for the past five minutes.

"These access both our angel blades and our heavenly armor. I'll be honest, Eva, I haven't seen them sealed away like this since I was in Heaven last with my older douchebag brothers."

"So we can summon archangel blades and armor using these tiny metal feathers?" Castiel's brow furrowed, head tilting in confusion. Clearly this had never been available to seraphs.

"More or less. The feathers, when in contact with our grace, summon the blades. To get the armor it takes a little more effort and a few fancy words, but yeah. I can't believe I didn't think to ask," Gabriel said. A brief flash of light left a sword in the former trickster's hand.

"Huh, well. So we have angel blades, too?"

"Yes and no. The feathers would have to touch Grace to summon blades. Might as well give you the grace—don't break those bottles, though, unless you want to be burnt extra crispy."

"Noted," Adam said as she handed him the vial with the copper feather. Dean got the bronze one, and Sam got the silver one.

"You won't be able to summon the armor, but I'm fairly certain you can get the blades with a bit of willpower and maybe a spell. I don't know for sure on this part," she explained.

"At least we don't have to go find the pieces," shrugged Adam.

"Until we get to that, I do have a job for us. Disappearances in Amboy, Illinois." Dean said, eager to get out of the house.

"How do we know it's our thing?" Sam asked.

"Bodies show up, sapped of blood," he replied, "And it's an itty bitty place so it was news. We might get a decent hotel for a good price there."

"Ooh, I'm up for stabbing some bloodsuckers," Gabriel stood up, "Let's do it."

The drive wasn't long, thanks to Gabriel teleporting the car and its occupants into the county.

"You couldn't just let me drive?" Dean grumbled.

"Nope. I'm used to instantaneous travel. Be glad I didn't zap us into the hotel parking lot of my choosing."

The Winchesters got into suits. Even Adam seemed professional in the cheap FBI outfit.

"Are you taking Cas and I with you?" Gabriel asked. Eva, in a pencil skirt and blazer, looked like a CEO.

"I don't know about you boys, but I'm going to check with the coroners."

"It's a bit bigger of a team than normal," Dean said pointedly. Gabriel was fun usually, but after zapping his Baby, he was uneasy.

"Gabriel and I can talk to the victims' families. You two can check with the police," Castiel suggested.

"Good idea, but you'll need to at least look like agents," Dean answered.

"Not a problem," Gabriel snapped, and both he and Castiel were in suits that fit the bill, complete with I.D.s that looked legitimate. Sam frowned. Gabriel in a suit like that reminded him of the angels, always looking like part of a corporation. The idea of Gabriel, sitting in an office, serious and imposing, didn't seem possible.

After doing some digging, Dean called Cas.

"So the most recent victim was a young woman who was walking by the old empty Blockbuster building late at night. And every victim is bloodless. I'm thinking it's definitely a vamp or two we're dealing with here."

"Right. I spoke with the victim's boyfriend. He mentioned her going for walks late at night and him not liking her being alone."

"It's not exactly a dangerous town," Dean snorted, "Minus the recent vamp attacks. The police don't know what to do."

"Well, we can stake out the old Blockbuster," Sam said, once Dean put them on speaker.

"Sounds good, Samoose!" Gabriel said, snatching Cas's phone. They went back to their hotel—Gabriel got them a nicer room than normal with his credit card from being a trickster.

"I'm not touching whatever roaches you two are probably used to. This is a step down for me—get used to a little more luxury now that you've got me, all right?" They couldn't complain, and Sam felt a warm tingling at the words—Gabriel was taking care of them, whether or not he'd admit it in so many words.

They'd gathered their weapons, planning a general idea of where everyone would wait and for how long.

"Don't fight them unless there's only one or two," Dean advised, "If it's a coven, have more backup before you do anything. And don't get caught."

* * *

It turned out to only be two vampires, and they were easy to finish off. Everyone headed back to the hotel and started packing up to head home.

There was a sudden crash and swearing from a man and woman.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" growled a familiar Scottish woman.

"She double-crossed us, that's what. Now _she_ has access to Purgatory and all the souls she wants to devour," replied an even _more_ familiar voice.

" _Crowley!_ " Dean glared in the direction of the voices.

"No, the old crossroads red-eyes?" Gabriel asked gleefully.

"King of Hell, too. And pain in our asses," Sam confirmed, "With his mother, Rowena, by the sound of it."

"Amara double-crossed him, if what he said is true," Eva said smugly, "Looks like they're coming to us for help."

"Question is, do we leave them out to dry?" asked Sam.

"Obviously, yes. They're more trouble than they're worth," Dean answered.

"Unless they have valuable information on Amara and her plan," Adam countered, "She's not exactly come out and given us an evil monologue."

"You're not actually suggesting we do this?" glared the oldest hunter.

"Well, one way or another, we can't have them running around free. You know they'll cause trouble without us watching them," Castiel pointed out. Dean sighed.

"You're right. Keeping them on a leash would at least give us an edge."

"Looks like it's time to bring in the evil skank," Dean sighed.

"And the assbutt son of hers," Cas said, frown growing.

Armed just in case with a shotgun, Dean opened the door to find Crowley with his ever-present smug look.

"Well, it's been a while, Dean, but I'm here to talk to Eva. I'm afraid I'm in need of her assistance." The arrogant smile was completely fabricated and obviously so, but Dean pretended not to notice.

"You need Eva? Didn't you have Amara? What, God's sister not enough for you?" Crowley's eyes flashed red, but he gave no other indication of his anger.

Gabriel was lounging on the couch, legs sprawled over Sam's lap. Castiel was standing in between the two beds of that room. Adam sat at the desk by the door. Eva was next to Castiel, arms crossed as Dean let the two in.

"Eva, darling," Crowley said, arms open.

"You sent the hounds on me. Excuse me for not being particularly fond of you right now."

_"Eva?_ " Rowena's jaw dropped. Everyone's eyebrows were raised at the witch's exclamation.

"Please tell me you don't know each other," Crowley groaned.

"She's the one that granted me my power in exchange for my soul," the witch said, "So yes, we know each other."

"I'll be damned," Eva muttered, "You can have your shriveled old soul back. I certainly don't need it. I'm under new management." Rowena's mouth popped open. She looked shocked.

"No. I'd like to keep my powers, thank you very much." Eva frowned.

"I swore off soul-taking. See these names, Rowena? All this Latin?" she yanked off her jacket, exposing her tattoos.

"Every single one. My right arm, every soul I broke on the racks. My left, every deal I collected. I never forgot who I used to be, Rowena, but I'm not the same as I was then. I don't want your soul."

"Oh, please. You're not some saint just because you're not in Hell anymore, girlie. You taught me all my best spells, after all."

"I wish I hadn't." Crowley's eyebrows were raised.

"Exes and mothers. Not a good combination."

"For God's sake, Crowley, _we never dated_ ," she seethed. Adam chuckled.

"Really? He thought—but you didn't?"

"Never. He's quite delusional with that," the demon-angel shrugged.

"What do you want then? I'll do what I can to keep my powers," Rowena warned.

"If you want it so badly," Eva rolled her eyes and tossed Crowley an old piece of parchment.

"Her deal. It's yours. She can't kill you or she'll turn mortal. Have fun with it. Now what do you want from me, _Fergus_?"

"Protection. You see, Amara was a good ally until she grew more powerful than me. She decided that taking over Purgatory alone would be in her best interests. I was thrown aside. I figured you'd want information on her little plan."

"Of course. But that's not enough, Boris and Natasha," Gabriel interjected. "Information is a one-and-done thing. Protection implies constant watch or multiple cases of saving your asses."

"I was talking to Eva, since she's the only demon here, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Loki," Crowley snapped, irritated.

"Don't piss him for no good reason, Crowley. He's more than you think he is. Cas too. You ought to be courteous to them if you expect to be in _my_ good graces." Eva crossed her arms.

"Right," Crowley frowned. "The devil's daughter, a rundown angel, and a pagan trickster." _One out of three. You're slipping,_ thought Dean with a smug grin.

"So you'll provide us with information. And you'll do odd jobs for us. Think of the information as down payment for your protection. When this Darkness business is all said and done, we can rehash whatever we're going to do with you," Sam reasoned, "After all, we've got a lot to do."

"I like it. I've been saying we need a maid," Dean grinned. Rowena's mouth tightened into a thin line.

"I hardly think we're that low," she snipped.

"Well, we're not asking what you think," Gabriel snorted.

"We can all clean up the place some other time. Right now we've got Darkness to deal with. Maybe we ought to consider how helpful having a witch and a demon under our watch would help," Adam said.

"I like this one," Crowley said, "Knows value where it stands."

"Last time I checked you were worth five pigs," Dean said, amused. Sam snorted.

"As much as I'd like to continue and figure out how many pigs or sacks of potatoes we're all potentially worth, what do you think, Eva?" asked Gabriel.

"Can't hurt to have another couple of ears in Hell," she mused, "Since we've got a pair in Heaven. Plus they're a little more intelligent than our own guard dogs—they can track, keep tabs on people."

"Your own guard dogs?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

"Zeppelin, heel," Dean called, and his own hellhound appeared beside him. Crowley stared, impressed.

"Fair enough."

"So let's hear what you have to say," Sam said. The demon cleared his throat.

"Amara is creating an army, and her top general is Lucifer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's fun. I wish I was better at writing his character-I desperately wanted to add him here as the priest like the show did, but it is what it is. Fun fact: I lived in Amboy when I was really, really little. So I'm basing it off of how I remember it. Also, the Blockbuster used to be my favorite place to walk to with my mom back then,.


	18. Blades for Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night for the couples goes swimmingly, but Amara is gathering her forces.

**Blades for Battle**

_**Even death has a heart. ~Markus Zusak, The Book Thief** _

* * *

"Come again? Lucifer is dead," Sam said, but Castiel's answer was chilling.

"Amara's God's equal in power. She hasn't resurrected him yet, but that's what she needs the souls for—because she clearly doesn't have a clear grip on her powers like her brother does," Castiel guessed.

"God's sister, hm?" Crowley frowned. "We're in bigger trouble than I thought. Anyway. She's going to confront God somehow with her own personal army. She began asking me about the archangels, God's first children. She asked about some demons, too. But she wanted to know about God's favorites, so I handed her a bible. No doubt she'll be after Lucifer now."

"What demons?" Dean demanded.

"The Lords and Knights of Hell over the years. The high-ranking ones, really, along with some of the dissenters. I believe she wants to take God's place or something to that effect." Eva snorted at the last part.

"If she wanted to take His place, she would have to do very little, since He hasn't been interacting with the population of Earth, Heaven, or Hell for at least two thousand years."

"Well I can't imagine what else she actually has planned," Crowley shrugged.

"I'll make some calls," Eva said sarcastically, pointing skyward.

"That's actually not a bad idea. Maybe Samandriel or Balthazar could find something on the angel blades," Castiel said, and Dean grinned at his boyfriend.

"She hasn't resurrected the angels yet, but she's got the demons she wants. Did it behind my back. Imagine my surprise when I turned and saw Alistair standing next to Amara, and a few other demons I recalled being dead. She snapped her fingers and sent them all out before I could even react. There's really no other possibility if she was asking about the angels and demons—she's gathering souls to increase her power so she can resurrect archangels, no doubt."

"This would screw us over royally if it weren't for the fact that we're basically doing the same thing," shrugged Gabriel, "Minus the resurrection stuff. We already finished that business. Now, Red Eyes, I'd like to repay you for trying to shut me up." The smirk on the former god was practically devilish. "Name's not Loki. It's Gabriel." It took a few moments of staring for the demon to react.

"Well. That. That's actually . . . I suppose good to know. We've got one archangel. They've got three coming up," he said, slipping back into his arrogant persona.

"Loki was an archangel?" Rowena said, a grin threatening to cross her features. "Well, I'm sure you remember me from a festival or another," she strutted towards Gabriel, probably calculating the strength of whatever infatuation spell she could use to get him on her side. He fought to roll his eyes, getting a glimpse of her thoughts.

"Mum, look sharp," Crowley chided, "I think you'd only be worse if it were the Devil himself sitting there."

"Mm, I remember. You were that skank at all of Kali's favorite festivals. Always hitting up demons. Ronda, or something?" If looks could shoot holy fire, Gabriel would have been dead again.

"Rowena."

"And it's two archangels, Crowley. Gonna be more if we get things right. Don't piss Cas off," Dean advised with a smirk.

* * *

They returned to the bunker, carefully letting Crowley and Rowena in under certain precautions including magic-binding shackles and a devil's trap for the King of Hell.

Through thorough research, Sam and Adam came up with a mention of a spell to summon the archangel blades through the feathers, which were referred to in the texts as some type of relic.

"Hm. It only mentions the spell and what it does, not how to actually cast it," frowned Adam. "Maybe if we run it by Samandriel or Balthazar, we'll get somewhere."

"Good thinking," Sam nodded, sending up a prayer. "We should relax in the meantime. I don't like the idea of Amara and an army, but it's not like we can do much else, huh?"

"Yeah. And we won't get anything done running on fumes. I think this calls for a drink and date night for each of us, huh?" Adam grinned a little, "Eva and I stay here, and you, Gabe, Dean, and Cas can all go out."

"I like the way you think, kiddo!" Gabriel laughed, appearing beside Sam.

"I don't want to leave you two alone with those two, though."

"He won't be alone. Eva's plenty powerful," Gabriel persuaded, "We need a night off, Sammykins. I need my Moose time."

"Fine. Where're we headed?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. Ciao, Adam!" Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Adam's older brother was gone. He went to Dean next.

"Hey, why don't you and Cas go out tonight? Blow off some steam, take a break, have a date. Eva and I can hold the fort for a while," he said. Dean scowled for a few moments.

"I'll let you have your date night next time, got it?"

"Yeah. Tell Cas. Have fun. We'll make some popcorn and watch TV or something."

"No rom-coms are allowed under this roof," Dean warned playfully.

"Only thing recorded on the DVR is Dr. Sexy, and Eva already assured me she hates it . . . insane, I swear . . . I'll find a movie or something," Adam replied. Dean paused, but a grin graced his features.

"Have fun, and don't let the two of them out, got it?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Adam replied. He had an impulse to add something, an insult, like the familiar "jerk" to finish the conversation. But he knew better—that was Sam and Dean's thing, and he couldn't impose on it. Those two had been family all their lives—he was only tagging along now. Blood or not, he wasn't nearly as close as those two were.

"Oh, and Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"You and I are having a Dr. Sexy marathon when this is over."

* * *

Amara had swallowed hundreds of monster souls. The demons she'd already resurrected were at either side of her, forming a sort of rank and file even though she'd never ordered them. There was Lilith, Alistair, Ruby, Abaddon, and another Knight of Hell that she'd more or less recreated. He was, truthfully, her only Knight, her perfect Knight. But she had an army to build, and more demons and greater creatures to resurrect.

This one, her Knight, had taken a little more work than the others, because he hadn't technically died, but she'd wanted him very badly for the job. She couldn't give him the Mark, of course—that was hers and hers alone. But so was _he_.

The souls she'd consumed thrummed beneath the skin of her vessel, crackling with power. She knew that she'd be able to resurrect exactly who she had in mind—her brother's firstborn sons, the archangels.

And they would be Hers, not His, to control.

"Y'know, this isn't exactly my expertise, but is bringing them back to life really a wise move? They helped lock you up before," _he_ said in a low drawl.

"But they believe He has abandoned them, and they will fall to me when they realized I have given them peace and a second chance all at once," she smiled.

"I don't like working with angels, all the same," Alistair finally said, having been quiet up to that point.

"Didn't seem to have a problem when one of them let you free on my watch," _he_ replied, rolling his eyes.

Amara smiled faintly. Her Knight would do well in the upcoming war. Very well indeed.

* * *

"Cas, how would you like to go on a date with me tonight?" Dean began, figuring beating around the bush was something he was completely done with.

"I would like that very much, Dean," Castiel smiled. He didn't smile often—Dean made a note to himself to try and change that.

"Well, then, what would you like to do? Movie? Dinner?"

"I believe dinner would be nice. Whatever you'd recommend—you do have more experience than me in this."

"Right. I'll grab the keys and we can go somewhere."

A few hours later found them at a small restaurant, not particularly fancy but dimly lit with curtains between each private booth.

"Is this all right?"

"It's great, Dean," Castiel assured. And they talked at their table while they waited for food—Cas had definitely acquired a taste for things, having been human and needing to eat before. Dean got them each different dishes, and grinned at the sight of Cas trying the garlic gnocchi.

"What do you think we could do, Cas?"

"What do you mean?"

"I . . . to beat her, or afterwards, whether we win or lose . . . just . . . what?"

"We will beat Amara," Castiel said with conviction, "I have faith in that."

"And after," Dean prompted.

"It would make me happy to continue hunting with you," he said after a few moments. Dean frowned, staring down at the table, but it was only to fight the small smile that had bubbled up.

"That'd make me happy, too."

* * *

The first angel that rose amid the black smoke was Raphael, the first to die. She informed him of who she was. Under her influence already, the apathetic, stoic archangel gave in almost immediately.

"I will serve you," he kneeled, and she gave him a black angel blade in the form of a spear in return.

* * *

"What, you think I can't bring you _anywhere_ , Sam? I'm offended by your lack of faith in me."

"No I just—this is—this is beautiful, Gabriel. I can't believe—"

"We haven't even started, my sweet Moose. There's more in store."

To hear that while dining on a balcony overlooking what Gabriel had claimed and proved was the hanging gardens of Babylon, well, Sam couldn't argue.

* * *

His dissent against his father, his hatred of the humans—that was easy enough to twist the Morning Star, the angel of Light, until he was a shadowy servant of her own. His rebelliousness wouldn't leave him, but still, he agreed to follow her orders.

"Now to the details of it—what exactly do you want me to do again?" He flipped the dagger, a crooked blade, in his hand.

* * *

"What do you want to watch?" he asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Any movie adaptations of books out recently?" she asked.

"Hm, depends on the book. What do you like?"

"I've not read it, but I heard that _The Book Thief_ is good," she said.

"Huh. Must not have been alive when it came out," Adam mused.

"Well, we can watch the movie now and read the book after. It's backwards from my usual, but I doubt you'd like to sit here and read for an hour," she chuckled.

"Sure. I'll see if it's on Netflix or something." After fiddling around, finding the remote, and queuing up the movie, Eva paused.

"Why don't we read the first section, the prologue if there's one, to get an idea of it?" she suggested.

"Sure, if you want." She summoned the book with a snap, and opened it. The first piece of plot was a two-page prologue.

"Death and Chocolate?" Adam chuckled. "Sounds like if my life was a cheesy romantic sitcom."

"Am I Death or Chocolate?" Eva teased.

"Silly. You're too pale to be referred to as chocolate. I'm _giving_ you chocolate, obviously."

They began reading. Eva's brow furrowed at the introduction.

"That's. Wow. Okay, the narrator isn't human."

"Duh." A few moments. Eva sighed.

"I like color too. It's easy to get lost in."

"I prefer tropical to ski trip; it means I can be lazy," Adam pointed out at the mention of the two stock ideas of vacations.

"The leftover humans?" Eva sucked in a breath. "This is . . . this is Death."

"Huh. The narrator is Death. Still want to watch it?" Adam knew she was still tense about the idea of becoming Death.

A pause. "Sure."

Later, as the credits rolled and Adam denied crying, Eva shook a little with small sobs.

"Damn it, I knew we shouldn't have—"

"No, no, I wanted to watch it, I wanted to. It just . . . wow. I'll have to read it later, when I'm . . . when I'm the narrator," she said shakily.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I just hope I'll still be able to kiss you," she laughed tearfully, "I know it's silly, but—touch Death, and thou shall die, and all that, it scares me a little." Curled up on the couch next to each other, Adam couldn't help but see she was still wearing the chain that had held the five lights.

"It's not silly to want contact with people," he countered. "And _you_ can take a vacation from it, more so than the book's Death. You can . . . hey . . . now that you've given everyone their angel graces, that chain needs something on it, huh?" Her eyes, still shining and puffy, looked up at him. She had a tiny smile. She took off the chain and strung on the ring with the white stone, letting it hang around her neck like a pendant.

"You're right."

* * *

The loyal, good son was last—hard to convince until her Knight stepped in with her, weaving doubts in his heart.

"What good has being the good son ever done you or anyone else? Do you have a good father to make it worth it in the end?" He set her up to close her argument just right, so Heaven's General would be under their command.

"Come then, Michael. Be better than He ever asked of you. Be a _better_ son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who's read The Book Thief? Show of hands? Right. I love that book, seriously. Anyway. .The whole interaction here was a little awkward again, because I can't write Crowley's character to save my life... or at least at the time of writing this, I really didn't know what to do with him. I might try again at some point. Who knows?


	19. Familiar Faces, Friends and Foes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara rallies her forces, including her general, and the boys are given their final task.

**Familiar Faces, Friends and Foes**

_**I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that. ~Lauren Bacall** _

* * *

Balthazar returned with a scroll containing the spell.

"I've also got good news and bad news. I'll tell you after you use the bloody spell though," he grumbled, "Because I want this done as soon as possible." Within a few hours, just as the sun started to set, Sam, Dean, and Adam each had an angel blade of their own. Balthazar called Castiel and Gabriel in—Eva went to check with Crowley and Rowena, who were tracking Amara sightings in Hell and on Earth.

"Angels are disappearing. They aren't dying, they're abandoning Heaven. What in Dad's name is going on?"

"The Darkness is recruiting, apparently," Castiel grumbled. "Demons and angels alike, now, it seems."

"Well, time to get a move on. We already have Amara doing some pretty shitty stuff."

"Is that so? Have you idjits been slacking while I've been gone?" asked a voice that none of them were expected to hear.

" _Bobby?!"_

* * *

Behind him stood Charlie, Jo, and Ellen, all of whom were given bear hugs from Sam and Dean.

"You see, Death has a list of people that ought to be dead for one reason or another. These four weren't on my list, amongst others, but the rest wanted to stay in their eternal rest," Eva grinned, tugging her necklace to reveal the ring. "It was only a matter of a little paperwork before I got them back. Their numbers weren't up yet. Now. Anyone got a priest that can bless these blades with Holy Fire?" After some chatting, catching up, and Eva explaining sheepishly that she was Death, they got to business.

"I'll do some searching. Charlie, can you look for sightings of miracles on security databases?" asked Sam.

"We'll call up some hunters and see what we can do," Ellen said, pulling Jo with her. Bobby crossed his arms.

"And what are you up to?"

"Once we get this done there's just one more trial," Dean explained, "And Amara's making moves. She's resurrecting demons and angels for an army."

"How'd you find that one out?"

"She dumped Crowley practically on our doorstep at a motel," Sam replied.

"So you've got him and Rowena here?" Bobby guessed, "Since she won't leave her son alone."

"Check and check."

"So apparently there's something going on in St. Louis. Lightning storms are happening way more often than normal, and people keep reporting seeing a strange woman or a—holy crap. I just got footage of a mugging . . . that happened two minutes ago. I think you'll want to check this out," she motioned for everyone present to gather around her computer.

The camera was pretty good quality for gas-station security. A man in a red shirt started stabbing a guy who'd come to fill up his gas.

"What's this got to do with unusual sightings?" asked Sam.

"Last time I checked, Dean can't stab a man in St. Louis and be back here within two minutes." She zoomed in on the attacker and typed a few moments, the image becoming clearer.

It was Dean. With black eyes.

* * *

Bobby immediately grabbed holy water and splashed the eldest Winchester with no effect.

"What the hell?!"

"He's human," Castiel assured, "There are no demons anywhere near here."

"Then explain that!"

"Amara must be very set on having you on her side, Dean," Gabriel frowned, "So much that she made her own demon you. If she can resurrect demons, why not clone one of her own, too?" Dean groaned.

"Great. Just what I needed. An evil demon twin running around wreaking havoc."

"Good thing you'll be able to stop him," Eva pointed out.

"Right. Ellen, any word?" as the woman entered the room, Dean asked.

"My friend Father Elliot is six miles from here. He'll agree to do what he needs to do," she said proudly, "And Jo?"

"I've got new I.D.'s for everyone when we get back. I phoned an old client who was willing to make quite a few of them. Including some with our real names, you know, for the heck of it. Didn't know what last names to give Gabriel or Castiel, so I just called you Edlunds, after that guy that wrote the Supernatural books."

"Actually, his name's Chuck Shurley," Sam corrected, "Edlund's just a pseudonym.

"Well, I said Edlund, so that's what you get. Castiel Edlund and Gabriel Edlund. And I didn't know if you'd need some, Eva, but I told him to make Eva Carver ones as well."

"Thanks," she smiled. It was an odd sort of smile—one that Dean only usually saw on Gabriel's face, the _I'm-so-clever-I-know-more-than-you_ bit.

"Okay, spill," the eldest Winchester said, frowning at her.

"Later. Let's get this trial done. Castiel, bring the tablet—if we can finish up as soon as possible, that'd be great," advised Sam.

"I'd better come with. I met Elliot once on the occasion of stocking up on holy water," Bobby said, standing up.

"Let's go," agreed Dean.

* * *

It was rather anticlimactic. The priest read some Latin over the blades, which glowed hot in the holy fire, and then put out the flames. No flashing light show or explosions.

At least the final trial appeared.

_Swear yourself to God's Plan_.

"That's not exactly as easy as it sounds, I'm sure," Dean grumbled. Eva's eyes widened, flashing black again with their bright light.

"He wants me to bring you guys over. Just you three, and Castiel—He's calling me to bring you over. Gabriel can't come yet because he has to have some form of punishment for running away, and not seeing him for a few hours seemed like enough."

"What's going on?" asked Bobby, irritated.

"I'm sorry, Bobby, but you'll have to stay with Elliot or go back to the bunker. We have important business."

"Business with who?" asked the priest, who hadn't said a word outside of the incantation since they got there.

"Yeah, who wants to party with the Winchesters?" Dean asked sarcastically. Eva took a deep breath before answering.

"God . . . to swear yourselves to His Plan in person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until I had some art I was making for this series done. Nah. I'm going to post all of the chapters, work on the art on my own time, and add that later to the chapters they're appropriate for. My OC is officially Eva Carver. And I don't know why I named the angels Edlund exactly--an attempt to break away from the fandom norm of making Cas and Gabe Novaks or Miltons, maybe. Who knows?


	20. The Seventh Trial of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet God and complete the seventh Trial.

**The Seventh Trial of Heaven**

_**We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties. ~Oswald Chambers** _

* * *

Eva snapped her fingers and the five of them—herself, the Winchesters, and Castiel—were all on the front step of a familiar house.

"What, is he gonna talk to us through Chuck's visions or something?" Sam frowned.

"Why are we here?" Castiel asked.

"To speak with God," Eva replied impatiently, knocking on the door, "Unless he's hungover again. Then to speak with his girlfriend until he snaps himself sober." Sam's eyes widened.

"You don't mean—" The door opened and Becky answered.

"Sam! Dean!—and Castiel, and you must be Adam, and Eva, it's so nice to see you again!" The blonde fangirl ushered them in, where the house was definitely cleaner than before. There wasn't a beer can in sight.

"Did you get him to join AA or something?" Dean asked. Becky laughed.

"Oh, no, he won't do it. But he has cleaned up his act for my sake," she smiled, "And I'm sorry about the crazy. I looked back and read the section about myself and was totally embarrassed, really. I'm sorry." The sincerity surprised Sam, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Of course. Yeah. It all worked out for the best anyway, huh?"

"It did," and her smile was bright as she offered snacks.

"Cookies, chips, popcorn—yes Eva, I remembered your favorite—gummy bears, and my apple pie is almost done cooling." Dean's eyes lit up at the mention of pie.

"Chuck! They're here!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," the voice came from another room chuckling, "I want to talk to Castiel alone first, and then I'll talk to the boys. Send him in here if you don't mind."

"Sure, sweetheart!"

* * *

Castiel entered the office. He didn't quite understand what they were doing here at first—the prophet's house? Then his mind began racing because it didn't make sense.

Only one prophet was to live at a time. Kevin Tran was a prophet. Chuck was still alive.

Chuck wasn't a prophet.

The angel sucked in a breath that he didn't need.

"It's all right, Castiel. Come, sit down for a minute." Not a trace of shakiness or stuttering. He was well-groomed and dressed in white and completely serene.

". . . Father?"

* * *

It was insanely awkward to have Becky doting on them like some sort of aunt.

"You _do_ know they're going into this to save the world, right?" asked Eva with a smile, "This isn't just a social call."

"Gotta make it as pleasant as possible, then," Becky shrugged, "Because when are they going to have time to relax and eat when they're fighting the Darkness?"

"Whoa, you know about the Darkness?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Of course I do. Amara. She's been sucking souls and forming an army out of demons and angels to confront God. She wants to use his firstborn sons as bait to get him to come out, in a manner of speaking."

"What? How do you know all this? We just found out," frowned Sam. Eva smiled and sipped the tea Becky offered her.

"Funny thing how you're supposed to be the smart one," she commented.

"Hey, what does that make me?" Adam joked.

"The good-looking one."

"Says the girlfriend," Sam rolled his eyes, "I'm sure he's the smart one, the strong one, the good looking one, and anything else, all together for you." She smirked and flipped her hair back slightly, winking.

"Of course he is."

* * *

"Then . . . why did you . . ."

"Castiel, how do humans teach their children to walk?" Castiel frowned.

"They hold their hands, praise them when they do well, guide them, and then let go. They catch them from coming to any harm until they're old enough to walk on their own. Still, they fall. But on their own, they do much more than walk. They run. They dance. And perhaps this is a bad example," he sighed, "Because if we're going to be honest, I shouldn't have abandoned the angels altogether. I might have done it gradually. But how would you learn free will if I told you to make your own choices?" a tired smile, a shine in his eyes, and Castiel understood.

"You wanted us to love and protect because we chose to."

"Because, as the old parable goes . . . 'A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' And he answered, 'I will not,' but afterward he changed his mind and went. And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, 'I go, sir,' but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?'"

"The second. That's Matthew, correct?"

"Yes," Chuck smiled, "So if I order Heaven to love and protect the humans, and they say they will, but plan the apocalypse in my absence, but the hunters, who had no such order, save the world, who followed my command?" Castiel smiled a little. Now that he knew—it was obvious. The warmth and love of his Father had always been at his side.

"I'm really sorry for the pain I've caused, and for deceiving you all," the author continued.

"It's just part of the Plan," Castiel muttered, not meaning to sound bitter.

"Yes. All the same, I am sorry," he said. "And I'm glad you found your way. I'm very, very proud of you, Castiel."

* * *

Cas walked out of the office with a peculiar expression—one that Dean recognized as fighting a smile.

"He'll talk to you three now. I'll wait with Eva and Becky." Dean narrowed his eyes, and both Sam and Adam wore confused frowns, but they all filed into the office.

"Heh, you clean up nice," Dean said, impressed. Adam's eyes widened slightly as he made the connection—the books on the desk by "Carver Edlund", and the fact that this man was the author . . . Eva had laughed at the idea of Cas and Gabe's last names being—oh. _Oh._ Adam glanced up at the guy, who smiled and nodded slightly.

"Sam, Dean, it's nice to see you again. Adam, good to meet you."

"Seriously? Like, what was Cas trying not to grin about? Are you putting us on the phone with the Big Man, or . . ."

"Dean. Shut up. Seriously. Do you even realize who you're talking to?" Adam hissed. Sam's eyes narrowed, suspicions confirmed.

"He's . . ."

"What the actual hell is—why are we here? To have the Prophet of the Lord make some calls?"

"Opposite of hell," Chuck interrupted, still smiling, "And take 'Prophet of the' out of the equation and you'll be right. There aren't any calls to make. You're here. Let's get this seventh Trial over with, shall we?" And Dean's jaw dropped.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch."

* * *

"So what have you been up to?" Becky asked.

"Don't you already know?"

"Only the general gist," she shrugged, "And only the official stuff. I don't know anything personal—he likes to respect people's privacy that way."

"After publishing books about the personal lives of Sam and Dean Winchester for the public," Eva chuckled, "Privacy my ass."

"Well, that was his excuse to me," Becky shrugged.

"He does that, making his own rules," Eva mused, "So you want gossip," she guessed, and correctly.

"I haven't heard the juicy stuff in a long time," she said innocently.

"Well, if you must know, two of the biggest ships in the fandom are canon," the new Death said slyly.

"What? Ships, canons? Are we talking about pirates?" Castiel frowned over the brownie he'd been munching on.

"No," Becky laughed, "Fans of the supernatural books 'ship' characters, or pair them together romantically as they believe they should be. Short for 'relationship'. Canon like canon law—actual written proof that it's real," she explained. Understanding lit up in the angel's eyes.

"I see. You're referring to the books. Who do the fans normally pair together that are now in a relationship?" Clueless as ever.

"I'll give you a hint: Both involve the older Winchester brothers," Eva helped.

"Destiel and Sabriel?" squealed Becky, "They're canon? Omygosh, Eva, are you dating Adam then?" A blush across Eva's face was all the answer she needed.

* * *

"A simple vow should do," shrugged Chuck, leaning back in His chair, "Promising to do My Will with the powers of Heaven and such. Adding in what you like. This is the first time this has been done, so pledging yourselves to the Plan shouldn't be too complicated."

"No, seriously, what the hell?" Dean growled, "Why would you—how could you—are you using Chuck as a vessel or something?"

"No. It's always been me."

"Even better," glowered the eldest Winchester. Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and that stilled him.

"We can whine and bitch all we want, Dean, but it won't change anything." He turned to Chuck, eyes searching, and spoke, "I . . . swear to follow your will, so that it may be done on Earth, in Heaven, and even in Hell. I will be whatever you need from me, and I will do what I can to protect your creation." Chuck smiled.

"Step forward, Sam." He did, hunched over slightly. Chuck stood.

"You're more an angel of light and goodness than even Lucifer was before the Fall," he mused. "What are you going to be for Heaven? For Earth? And, since you included it, for Hell? What do you _want_ to be?" Sam raised his eyebrows at the smiling man before him, asking him what he wanted.

"I . . . in Heaven or Hell, a mediator. Someone to step in for souls that might not belong in one place or another."

"And on Earth?"

" . . . I want to keep hunting. Saving people and all. Be what I thought angels were supposed to be before I met any." God smiled. In his hands, suddenly, were the vials of grace that Eva had given them. He unstoppered one, holding the light in his palm.

"Then that is what you'll be. _Samuel Winchester, Archangel of Light, Hope to all Realms._ " He touched Sam's forehead gently, as if to smooth back a lock of hair, and in a flash of possibly-blinding light (Dean and Adam shielded their eyes, just in case) Sam had six new appendages coming from his back.

Sam, at the touch of God, felt a whirlwind, like he was falling, but upwards, and the light roared into him like some sort of tidal wave. Or wildfire. Or lightning strike.

All at once, he could feel every single individual cell in his body light up with angel grace, and yet he felt the separate interaction—of the grace attaching itself to his soul, growing into it.

The wings were larger than the office would allow, so they were scrunched up against Sam's body. But they shone, white and silver, glinting just slightly in the light with the chameleon colors of Sam's eyes—that hazel that changed.

"Whoa, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam had to blink a few times when he turned to look at him, because it was like staring at the sun and a slightly dimmer sun when he looked at the two of his brothers. It was a new experience, like swimming with goggles half-submerged. As if he could see above the surface like before, but was half-underwater too, seeing the depths of the deep for the first time.

It struck him suddenly how he was seeing his brothers' _souls_. He focused on the physical forms again, blinking a few more times to adjust.

"This is the trippiest thing I have ever done," Sam confirmed. "And it's Sam, jerk," he added. Even as a freaking archangel, Dean still refused to call him by his name.

"Bitch. Wait, the bitch can smite me now," he said in mock-fear. "And _white_ Sammy? Should I get you a little golden wire halo?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Who's next?" He asked.

"I guess I'll go," shrugged Adam. "I . . . pledge my soul, my mind, my heart, and my strength to you. I will do whatever it takes to see Your Plan come to light, and I will protect and help Your creation with all my power. . . does that work?" he asked, brow furrowed. Sam had backed up against the wall to keep his wings out of the way.

"And you, Adam? What is it that you want to be?"

"I want to be a doctor—a healer," he amended from his automatic response, "And I want to defend and protect people that can't protect themselves."

" _Adam Winchester, Archangel of Healers, Faithful Sevant."_

Adam, too, felt the rush of light. It was like an adrenaline rush, or waking up from a good sleep. It was elation. And it was terrifying. His senses were sharper, and he could definitely hear the conversations of angels and prayers in the back of his head, a constant buzz of chatter.

His wings were a mottled copper and dark chocolate brown. They looked wild and chaotic, even though they weren't moving all that much. He grabbed at one of the lowest ones and stared at it.

"This is weird on so many levels."

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, I, um. I promise to protect people, and to stop anything that threatens innocents. I promise to follow You, to be at Your side. And before you ask what I want to be, I think that's obvious. What I've always been and always will be. A hunter." Chuck smiled at that.

"I wouldn't write you any other way. _Dean Winchester. Archangel of Hunters. Defender of God."_

He remembered vaguely how Jimmy had said that being a vessel was like being strapped to a comet. He even remembered the feeling with Cas. This, in comparison, was being welded to the comet, or the comet melting into every pore.

But in some sense, in all the overwhelming power, it clicked. It made sense. Dean felt more alive, more whole, more _himself_ than he remembered feeling in a long, long time.

Dean's wings were bronze and green. The smallest pair was nearly blonde in its shade, but the green sheen that reflected off of every feather made any hope of them looking natural die. They shone the same green of his eyes in speckles throughout the bronze feathers, reminding him slightly of the blue he remembered reflected in Cas's wings.

It felt strangely comfortable to Dean. But he was unsettled as to why that might be. It wasn't until Chuck voiced it, whistling appreciatively.

"Wow. You were _made_ to be an angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Becky being the auntie type here instead of a raging superfan seemed cute. Dating Chuck has mellowed her out a bit to a fangirl with boundaries. Them being a little clueless worked too in this because it's not exactly been made known to them that God could have been on Earth. I tried incorporating what I thought was good reasoning and a little scripture to explain the whole 'leaving without a word' thing that God apparently has done. 
> 
> Then everyone swearing themselves to the plan-I vaguely made them each one of the three cardinal virtues of faith, hope, and love. It worked out nicely, and their job titles matched their earlier prayers without me meaning to do that. Their wings colors had to match their metallic feathers with their own personal touches too. Lol, can you tell I was raised Roman Catholic for fourteen years based off of their pledges? Looking back on it I can see it so clearly, as I wrote this while still going to Catholic school.


	21. Midair Challenges and Mojo-School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys test out their shiny new angel powers.

**Midair Challenges and Mojo-School**

_**I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery** _

* * *

The three of them walked out of the office after learning that their wings could go right through the wall as long as they concentrated.

"So you— _wow,_ " Becky breathed. Eva stood up.

"I think it's time you called Gabriel. Mind taking him aside?" she asked Chuck, who nodded.

"What now?" Dean asked as Chuck called the final archangel into his office.

"We'll have to teach you three the basics of angel combat," Castiel answered, "Since we'll be dealing with Amara's angels. And maybe we can convince more of Heaven to join us. This won't be an easy fight."

"Sounds like fun," Dean grinned, "Mojo-school." Sam rolled his eyes at the phrase.

"You're not allowed to name things anymore, Dean. Ever."

"First lesson, then. Let's get your wings off this plane of existence to make things easier," Castiel advised, "Focus on the Grace in your wings—Becky, close your eyes for a moment—and pull it towards the core of your Grace. If we keep as much information from Crowley and Rowena as possible I also feel safer about our chances. He's already allied with Amara before." Each of them did as they were told, carefully concealing their powers as well. After getting a grip on their respective Graces, they even managed to look somewhat human. Castiel explained the mechanics of teleporting and summoning an angel blade. As he finished his explanation, Gabriel had come out of the office.

"Well, I suppose we should head back to the bunker then?" he said, "So we can figure out whatever final steps there are to turn you into angels now that you've completed the trials?" They glanced at one another. The opportunity to trick the trickster was just too great.

"Yeah, I guess so. Let's go, Cas." Grabbing hands, they flew—only it was Dean that took Castiel. Not that Gabriel would have noticed.

"Right. Thank you so much for the food, Becky," Eva smiled, pulling Adam along with her as they disappeared.

"Right. Our turn to go, Sammy," Gabriel's usual grin dropped as Sam snapped his fingers experimentally, sending them to the front doorstep of the bunker.

"What the?" Sam's only reply was a deep chuckle and a kiss before heading inside, tugging the surprised archangel with him.

"You—so you're already angels! Good to know, thanks for telling me," he grumbled. Sam only smiled and showed Gabriel his wings for a few moments, which caused the shorter man to blink a few times before attacking his Moose's mouth.

* * *

"So we need to do a crash course on angelic powers and combat," Adam summarized.

"I volunteer to help Samsquatch!" Gabriel announced.

"We'll have to work equally with all of them, Gabriel. You know tricks. I was a fighter. And Eva's got to learn how to wield her scythe as Death, so she won't be able to help as much."

"Well, we can start by getting blades for all those humans inside to help kill the demons," advised Eva, "Since we'll no doubt be focused on the archangels and Amara."

* * *

"I engraved multiple exorcisms, sigils, and protection symbols into these knives," Castiel explained, handing one each to Bobby, Charlie, Jo, and Ellen. "No demon, not even a Knight of Hell, could survive a major wound dealt by these."

"Thanks, Castiel," Jo said, examining the blade, giving a few experimental slices and jabs in the air to an imaginary foe.

"I like your thinking, Cassie," Gabriel praised. "More the merrier. And between you, me, and Eva, we can bring back any one of you four if need be."

"Assuming we win," Bobby grumbled.

"Oh, there's the pessimistic hunter I remember stabbing me!" the archangel declared gleefully. Bobby didn't seem to appreciate the sentiment.

"Idjit."

"First up, flying, since I think you two have been in enough knife fights that you don't need help wielding your blades to that extent," advised Eva, flipping her brand-new, shining scythe in her hand like she was twirling a baton.

"Flying?" Dean asked, brow furrowed. Sam laughed.

"Oh, come on you jerk, don't tell me you're gonna be scared of flying _now_."

"Sammy, you little bitch!" Dean hissed as Gabriel proceeded to roll on the floor with laughter.

"An angel—afraid of—" he shouted between guffaws, "A man that has faced hell and fought monsters all his life is afraid of _flying?"_

"Shut up before I shut you up myself," Dean grumbled. Castiel fought a smile at the display.

"I'll help you, don't worry, Dean. I'll catch you if you fall," he assured. Dean only felt the heat and no doubt redness in his cheeks grow.

"Damnit, Cas," he sighed, "Fine, teach me how to fly. Just don't let the chuckleheads anywhere near me."

"Duly noted," Castiel nodded.

"So, Sammy, angel training," Gabriel finally recovered from his laughing fit.

"Uh-uh, Uncle. You'll distract him more than help him if you start. You and Adam, me and Sam. I've got wings too, so this part I'm actually of use for," Eva said, crossing her arms.

"But Evaaaa," Heaven's Herald whined.

"Do what she says," Adam chuckled.

"But Adaaam," he continued. The glint in his eye returned. "Adaaaam and Eeevvv—a. Adam and Eve. So many first human jokes I could make—snakes, forbidden fruit-"

"I hate you." Her eyes narrowed.

"No you don't," he teased back.

* * *

Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Charlie, Crowley, and Rowena were all at the bunker. It was probably one of the awkwardest dinners Jo had ever been a part of, and that was saying something.

"So. Anything you _can_ inform me of, then?" Rowena asked, a pout on her lips.

"Nope. There's a lot of it we don't even know," Charlie said smugly. Bobby coughed awkwardly.

"They . . . explained it to me. And I don't know all the details. But whatever Amara's doing . . . God's apparently planning against it."

"Huh. The Big Man stepping in. Pass the rolls, if you would," Crowley requested.

"You don't even need to eat," Ellen grumbled, still passing the food over.

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it," the King of Hell shrugged.

"Got any cases lately, Bobby?" Jo asked, "In the meantime while we prepare for the big showdown?"

"Some ghost activity a few miles south. You up for it?"

"Always," Jo grinned, "Charlie, you in?"

"No thanks. I'm not much of a ghostbuster. I'm going to look up Amara and see if she's done anything big again yet."

"I'll make some more calls, tell others to watch out," Ellen nodded. When they were done with dinner, that left Bobby, Rowena, and Crowley.

"Any updates from Hell?" he asked.

"Some demons are going missing. Amara's a draw for them—darkness and demons seem like a good fit," Crowley shrugged.

"Don't be silly sweetheart. It has nothing to do with demons. Power is a draw for everything, and she's one of the two most powerful things on the planet."

"Any Lucifer sightings?" the hunter continued.

"Some murmurs. I think that's why some are leaving even if they don't know about the Darkness. Of course, I can only know so much while I'm cooped up in here the majority of the time."

"And if our positions were switched, you wouldn't keep an eye on me?" Bobby retorted, eyebrow raised. A chuckle.

"I would keep a tight leash, too."

* * *

Eva nodded.

"You've picked up pretty quickly on this. I'm impressed."

"Really?" Sam was riding air currents at first, but he was much more in control now of where he went.

"Really. I learned on my own, so there isn't much to go off of, but you've picked it up really well."

"Always wanted to fly," he chuckled, "Broke my arm in one attempt." She chuckled.

"Want to try a little air-combat? Sparring?" she suggested.

"Got to get to it at some point," he shrugged, and they readied themselves.

* * *

Adam was doing okay, but Gabriel was threatening him with teases of pranks, and he was _so_ not waking up with his hair or wings a color they shouldn't be. So he pushed himself.

"How fast can archangels go?" he wondered aloud, seeing as he wasn't even remotely tired.

"You could probably circle the world in a few hours and only break a minor sweat if you really go for it," the former trickster replied casually, "Not that I'd recommend it. If you're in that desperate of a hurry you can teleport."

"You're just slower than you'd like to admit. All those years as Loki has made you rusty, hasn't it?" Adam challenged. Gabriel's wings spread a little wider.

"Oh, you're _so_ on. Where's the race to and from?"

"Why don't we 'break a minor sweat'?" Adam suggested. "Or are you not up for it, old man?"

"Your loss, whippersnapper," Gabriel taunted back, "I'm older than the planet. I was around when you were made. You think just because you've got wings now means you can beat me?"

"Yes, actually."

"Okay. In that direction, once around the world, back here. Three—two—one—" A sonic boom silenced any hope of a "go" as they took off.

* * *

Dean was actually a good flyer.

"I guess since I'm the one in control . . . I'm not cooped up in a tin can in the air. It wasn't flying, it was flying _on a plane_ ," the eldest Winchester reasoned, "Because this is _awesome_."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Castiel smiled, amused. And wasn't that strange, because Dean really was.

"I think I'd better learn about midair fighting if I want to stand a chance against Lucifer, Michael, or Raphael," Dean admitted, slowing down his air—acrobatics.

"That's what I'm here for now, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist Gabriel getting duped a little bit. Also I nearly used this quote instead: There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror. ~Orson Welles because of Dean, obviously. But I skipped it in favor of a nicer one. Mostly transitional filler here, though some flying stuff was fun to add in/write. Needed a breather between all the heavy stuff anyway.


	22. Heavenly and Hellish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heavenly jailbreak occurs, and Crowley has a verbal standoff with Lucifer.

**Heavenly and Hellish**

_**There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery. ~Joseph Conrad** _

* * *

About two weeks later, Eva was out doing her thing as Death. It was a regular occurrence now—she'd spend her time at the bunker and help train (which was going smoothly), but then for anywhere between an hour and half the day, she'd be out separating souls from their bodies to be sent on. She'd made friends with a few surprised Reapers.

"How'd you come to the job?" inquired one.

"God decided I'd be good for it. Maybe because I'm impartial, one of a kind. Half-demon, half-angel, and not completely indifferent like the previous guy. Though I do share his love of food," she grinned, snapping herself up a hot dog.

"Huh. Good to see not everything has changed. The guy reapers will be all over you."

"Nope," Eva shrugged, "Since I'm dating an archangel. Unless they want to get a smiting, they'll avoid trying too hard." The reaper laughed.

"What's your name?" Eva asked.

"Tessa. You should know that the Reapers won't take part in the war."

"Didn't expect it. This is between God and His sister," she shrugged. Tessa paused.

"That doesn't mean I won't give tips on how to wield that scythe, though. I've used a couple of those before." Eva grinned.

"I like the sound of that."

* * *

The five archangels agreed that they had to go to heaven.

"Getting our armor couldn't hurt. And I'm sure Balthazar has access. It'll be easier than using the feathers. I'll call Samandriel," Gabriel said.

A few moments later he frowned.

"They're blocked off . . ." A panic rushed through them.

"We have to go after them," confirmed Adam, "They're probably in trouble."

They could suddenly hear a quick prayer—Balthazar's voice.

_Trapped. Heaven's jail. Metatron's reinstated by Michael._

"Great! Just what we needed!" growled Gabriel.

"We were planning on going to Heaven anyway," Castiel pointed out, "Perhaps we should go and save them. Heaven's jail blocks incoming and outgoing prayers, so they must have tried to escape already. And Balthazar is the only one with access to the armory."

"I don't know," Gabriel tensed. It dawned on Sam that Gabriel had not seen Michael since the Fall—when he first ran away.

"We should get Balthazar and Samandriel out of there at least," Sam said, "And anyone on our side. If Amara's taking over, we have to fight back, even if we don't like it, Gabe."

"I . . . I know. My brothers are dicks, but they're still my brothers," he sighed. "It's just not going to be pretty."

"Amara's got control of them, Gabriel. If God was willing to bring you and Cas back, who's to say He won't take them back when this is over?" Adam suggested, "No guarantees, but He's all about forgiveness, isn't He?"

"Maybe, Samsquatch. Let's just bust Balth and Samandriel out, okay?"

* * *

Castiel glanced around as they entered Heaven. There weren't many angels about, and so far no one seemed to have been alerted by their presence. Until—

"I can't believe it. Archangels. . . Gabriel? And—did the Winchesters say yes? A little late in the game, don't you think?" asked Metatron.

"Right," said Adam, crossing his arms and standing in front of Castiel so his power was somewhat disguised. "That's not particularly important, Metatron. I was informed of Balthazar and Samandriel's imprisonment. I am here to see them personally."

"Really? Why would that be?"

"I have Castiel with me too, in case you haven't noticed," the youngest Winchester thought quickly, "And I would like to deliver him myself." Sam and Dean seemed confused, but Gabriel had caught on.

"After all, I'd like to have a private chat with my brothers, too, after all these years. Right, _Michael?_ " he asked, nudging Dean, who caught on.

"Right. Let's take Castiel down, then," he said, grabbing his boyfriend's wrist. The impromptu pretending to be their enemies was working out so far. It helped that their grace came from said enemies.

"Are you sure you don't want me doing it? Castiel _does_ have a habit of . . . getting out of things and coming back," Metatron asked.

"You only want revenge on him," Adam replied, "I think four archangels can handle him."

"Four—then—Lucifer?" he asked, gasping.

"What other angel has a good reason to be wearing Sam Winchester?" Sam asked, trying his hardest to not be weirded out by the fact that he was pretending to be the Devil. He pulled himself to his full height, trying to make himself seem imposing.

"I mean—isn't Michael—what—"

"Plans have changed for now," Sam said breezily, "And plans involve the cells where Balthazar, Samandriel, Castiel here, and any other possible traitors are."

"Right. I'll take you right away," the oblivious seraph led them to the prison.

"It's been a while, Metatron," Gabriel, the only one who didn't have to really pretend anything, said, "I've been Loki for a while. What'd I miss?"

"The apocalypse nearly happening, angels dying left and right, and Michael returning claiming we have to prepare for war," he nodded towards Dean, who fought the urge to punch the guy.

"But I'm sure Michael explained?"

"Nope. I did most of the talking there. Had to convince him not to smite me for running off. Somehow it worked," he shrugged.

"War against whom?" asked Castiel suddenly, once they'd entered the jail. Metatron glared, bringing them down a corridor where there were mostly empty cells, with a few seraphs not meeting their eyes as they passed.

"You should know. You and the Winchesters probably. Though now they're out of commission, so I can't imagine."

"So I see you were planning on bringing Castiel to Heaven, Balthazar?" asked Adam when they'd gotten to his and Samandriel's cell. He held his face, diplomatic and serene. Balthazar's eyes widened, and Samandriel gasped.

"I—Raphael—"

"Well? Open the cell, Metatron." Sam placed himself close to the door so that the seraph would have to open it inward. The two prisoners dashed to escape, and succeeded, but Dean caught both of their arms before they could run any further.

Castiel took this moment to shove Metatron further into the cell, trapping him there. He slammed the door shut.

"Wait, what? Stop him!" shouted Metatron.

"Why would I do that?" asked Dean, smirking, "As far as I see it, you're where you belong. It's a good thing Balthazar called before he was trapped in the cell." Metatron's eyes narrowed.

"What are you playing, Michael?"

"Who said I was Michael?" Dean responded, leaning in closely. "I'm exactly who I look like. Michael's being controlled by the Darkness. We're going to stop her. Simple as that."

"But I sensed you as four archangels when I got here!" he protested. Castiel shook his head.

"You weren't very observant, then. Because there are five archangels here, not four. And Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael are not them." Leaving him dumbfounded in the cell, they headed back to the front door of the jail.

"So what now? You five managed it?" asked Samandriel. Castiel grinned.

"We have, brother. Now we have four new brothers in Heaven. Assuming we don't get killed. Balthazar, can you take us to the armory?"

"Well, I guess so. After rescuing the damsel in distress, you need some rescuing yourself," he shrugged. His eyes shifted back and forth between each of the archangels.

"Glad I'm on your side now," he sighed, and directed them to the armory.

* * *

Crowley was ruling as usual, going over monotonous paperwork and regulating the damnation of souls. The usual. On call with the Winchesters, who had some secret weapon to defeat Amara—not as usual. But he agreed to stick by them per the details of their current agreement. Rowena, now under his contract, was also bound by those rules.

It also meant that he had to deal with her personally whenever she used big spells.

"After all, the demons have been whispering about the return of the Devil," she said. He rolled his eyes at each insinuation. He was not going to lose the throne, and even if he did, it wouldn't be for long.

So when she cast a spell to summon the fallen archangel, he was present and not-so-pleasantly surprised.

"Mm, king of the crossroads, right?"

"King of Hell. When you're locked up in the Cage, not much _you_ can do about that position. And considering this is the second time you broke out, I'm not all that impressed—you were locked in by a couple of humans. Doesn't make you seem all that powerful." He knew he was asking for it. Better now to show his loyalties than lie and later get aggressively punished.

"See, about that. I'm glad you're on top, Crowley. You know who to fight, but you also know when it's time to make way and make a deal." Rowena was staring at the Devil, eyes half-lidded, a grin on her face.

"Mum, you're drooling," Crowley muttered, rolling his eyes. Lucifer regarded her with a smirk.

"So what's the angel of light doing with the Darkness, hm? Seems like a bad business decision."

"The enemy of my enemy is my associate," Lucifer shrugged.

"What, the devil doesn't make friends?"

"Kind of comes with the title. Now. Keep ruling Hell. But . . . I'll ask that you do it under my watch, my rules. Maybe I'll go easy on you when it's all over."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to be an option," the demon replied, "I've got a standing deal that doesn't allow me to mingle with Amara or her . . . _associates_." Came with benefits, too. Like knowing an angel banishing sigil, or perhaps a call to the Winchesters directly. The banishment would be the first line of defense, though he'd only come back later . . .

"Then I'll have to make you wish you were Sam Winchester in the Cage with me . . . you'd have it easier," the Devil smiled barely, reaching out a hand. Crowley slapped his hand on the sigil, and with a flash, the fallen angel was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conflicts on both fronts are building here! Figured Raphael or Michael might pick up sorry old Metatron as a lackey. And having an excuse for the boys to show some impressive archangel badassery by breaking people out of jail? Sure! (When it actually matters, the Winchester can act. See: Fake FBI) I also wasn't sure about Crowley-he couldn't have an affiliation with Lucifer, but also is interested in keeping himself alive and kicking, so the confrontation there was a little hard to write.


	23. Armor and Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is readying themselves for the battle to begin, and forces are scrambling to chose sides.

**Armor and Allies**

_**War would end if the dead could return. ~Stanley Baldwin** _

* * *

"That's not what I remember being there," Balthazar frowned, "The armor was definitely more showy. And monochrome. Mind filling me in on why that might be?"

"Because it's ours, not Michael, Raphael, or Lucifer's," affirmed Sam, "And I don't know what you're talking about. That looks pretty showy to me," he gestured to the golden set that seemed to glow slightly with feather designs all over it.

"That's because it's mine," Gabriel grinned, "And it even has a bit of Norse design. The armor reflects the wearer to some degree. At least I don't have that weird horned helmet." Balthazar, amused, snapped said helmet onto Gabriel's head.

"Hey!"

"Well, showy definitely fits, then," Sam chuckled, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek and snapping away the helmet.

"So which is which, otherwise?" asked Dean, although he already had a feeling. The duller, darker, slightly bulkier set that faintly glowed blue at the seams—that was Cas's. The silver one with intricate rune-like patterns that gleamed in different colors—that could only be Sam's (not to mention it was the tallest there). Adam's shone like copper, but it was definitely stronger stuff, all angles and sharp corners. And the last one was undoubtedly his.

It was bronze-colored with some green lines etched into it, including an anti-possession symbol on either shoulder. Dark brown leather pieces held it together where it otherwise might leave the wearer exposed—at the joints, in between plates. But the chest plate, right over where his heart would be, was the amulet he bitterly regretted throwing away.

"They match our wings," he observed instead of mentioning it, "God's a fashionista, apparently."

"Well, looks like they'll fit. Let's suit up, gang!" grinned Gabriel.

"We're not on Scooby Doo," Dean grumbled.

"Well, clearly we are. There's five of us, not four like the ghostbusters."

"Who does that make me?"

"Depends. Sam's Velma. I'm clearly Daphne—have you _seen_ me?" he gave a flip of his hair. Dean chose not to make an airhead comment.

"I think you're probably Fred. Y'know, brawn, shoot first, et cetera. Adam . . . well, he's not really a stoner, but neither is Cas." Dean felt a pang as he recalled the Croatoan version of things—of Cas being very much a stoner.

"Adam's Scooby, and Cas is Shaggy," Dean shrugged.

"Why am I the dog?" Adam grumbled, but he shook his head with a smile all the same.

Once they were ready, Castiel summoned his angel blade—which had become longer, glinting brightly, as a sword.

"That's new," he observed simply.

"Awesome," Dean said, maneuvering around in the armor. It wasn't restricting at all like he expected. He glanced at the others, who were also getting a feel for the armor. It was kind of impressive how much it just _fit_. Adam let out his wings and it was even more impressive.

_I don't even know if this will bloody work, but I could use some help down in Hell. Lucifer's here and he isn't exactly happy._

"Did you guys hear—"

"Crowley. Never thought I'd hear a demon pray," Gabriel shook his head, "We'd better split up. Who wants to go to Hell? Who wants to go to Earth to check with Dad? And who wants to stay here and deal with Mike and Raph when they show up?"

"Heaven," Castiel and Adam voted.

"I'll catch up with Eva and talk to Dad," Gabriel replied.

"That leaves us to Hell," Sam sighed, glancing at Dean.

"Y'think they'll fall for the devil act?" Dean asked, which earned him a smack.

* * *

Bobby picked up the phone.

"What now?" he grumbled. Crowley's number meant something bad—either he just wanted to bug him, or there was trouble. Either way, he wasn't happy.

"Thought you'd be happy to hear my voice. But if you must know, Lucifer tried to talk me into joining him. Figured whatever toy the Winchesters have going, they'd better bring it out now. He'll be back."

"Damn," Bobby cursed, "Just when they leave . . ." Suddenly, Gabriel appeared next to him, a shaken Eva in tow.

"What's going on?"

"Amara's starting her fight. We figured we'd let you know so you can get ready, then bring you over to dad's place where we can make plans."

"Hasn't God made all the plans?" Ellen asked, crossing her arms.

"Just the general ideas. It's up to us to flesh out the details," Eva replied, "Cas and Adam are upstairs seeing if we can get some angels together. Dean and Sam are going to bring the fight out of Hell because—"

"I know, Lucifer's parading around downstairs. Crowley's on speaker."

"Heard your prayer, Red Eyes. Don't freak out, but they'll be in your throne room in a bit. Sorry about the feathers, but I ain't sweeping them up. Say hi to my Moose for me!" And hung up.

* * *

"Freaking angels," the demon cursed.

"Aw, c'mon, we're not all bad," was the unexpected reply behind him. He turned to see Sam and Dean in full battle regalia. With six wings apiece.

"Of course, you'll always have a soft spot, squirrel. Bromance and all." Dean snorted.

"I have to say this is an unexpected development. Your little brother, too?"

"Yep. And it must be your lucky day. We're here to kick Lucifer's ass out, coincidentally cutting you a break. No angel banishing sigils, though. That would get rid of us too, and I'm sure you want to catch up," said Sam sarcastically.

"Your better half said to say hi on the phone before he hung up, Moose," Crowley said in reply. In the lighting it was hard to notice the reddening of the taller angel's face.

"Right. Thanks. We'd better see if—" A demon rushed in frantically.

"Sir, Lucifer is storming the fortress. He's got half of Hell on his side . . . and Knights."

"Where's the other half, then? Gather forces! We need to get him _out_ of here!" Crowley snarled.

"Understood."

"And tell them . . . the _real_ devil is on our side," he glanced at Sam. The demon's eyes widened.

"That's not true," Dean hissed after they were alone again.

"But _they_ don't have to know that. Anything for supporters. Not like demons are very Winchester-friendly, if you'll remember."

"And the bromance?" Dean asked. The King of Hell shrugged dismissively.

"An exception. After all, you did make a good demon for a while."

"About that . . . Amara somehow brought me back to her side as a demon. I don't know how. But we've got two of me to deal with, plus whatever else," Dean warned.

"Well, it's a good thing you've got Hellhounds, then. It'll make you more impressive to my side. Quick cover story, so we're all clear—Sam's the real devil, and Amara's playing up demons on her side to make people believe she's got the devil, when she's really got a puppet. Dean also said yes but is on our side. They won't like the idea of archangels unless the Devil's one of them."

"Good," Sam conceded, "Now I'm the new Devil as far as they're concerned." He didn't look happy about the idea.

"It'll cause chaos, but hopefully in our favor. You're a little more believable as the Lightbringer."

Demons flooded into the throne room minutes later, ready for orders.

"I'm sure you all remember Amara. She's betrayed us," Crowley began his speech, "And now she's brought back plenty of other traitors to serve her so she might take over. And she's made a puppet to act in the Devil's place."

"No, that was definitely the Devil out there," argued one of them.

"I'm pretty sure I know the Lightbringer when I see him. Lucifer. So I made some calls upstairs and got out what might be our only chance."

"He opened the Cage," lied Sam, spreading his wings wide and stepping out from behind the throne, Dean shortly after him.

"So out there . . . they're following a fake Lucifer . . . and we're following the real one?" asked one of them.

"No, you're following Crowley. I'm not interested in . . . ruling anyone anymore. It's a . . . a partnership," Sam said, imitating Lucifer's mannerisms to some degree with a smile that caused some shivers in the crowd.

"And you're not Sam Winchester, here to play us all for fools?" asked another.

"Are you willing to die to find out?" Sam asked, summoning his angel blade. The younger demon shook his head, backing off.

"Not a chance. I'll stay right here. But what's with him?" he asked, pointing at Dean.

"The Darkness is both of our enemies. We'll talk about the prize fight afterwards. And in case you were wondering, he's my little brother, so I'm not letting him fight her alone." He spread his wings too, in emphasis.

"That makes you Michael," gasped one of the others, "The oldest archangel." Whispers hissed across the room.

"That's right."

"You've got two choices here. And frankly, I'm sure you'd rather deal with the devil you know," Crowley said, gesturing across to Dean, Sam, and himself. He then noticed someone missing.

". . . Where's my mother?"

* * *

The witch was gone. Charlie cursed.

"Looks like we're going bitch hunting," Jo said wryly, strapping on a gun holster and grabbing one of the knives.

"I'll let the son of said bitch know," Bobby grumbled, dialing on his phone.

* * *

"So you let the most powerful witch possible run loose," Crowley growled.

"I think 'powerful witch' is a part of the equation. Now what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"

"Nothing. She's probably drooling over Lucifer already."

"Balls."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"Well, Mikey, this is a pleasant surprise," Gabriel said, Eva readying her knife.

"I have to say the same, little brother. To know you're alive. What are you doing with Death? And why is Death not . . . who they were before?"

"Long story, big bro. But I'll tell you what I told Lucifer right before he killed me the first time around. You're my brother. And I love you. But you are one great big bag of dicks."

Heaven's general snarled. "What did you just call me?"

"Following Amara? Really? What happened to the good son? I mean, I know I'm not that great, but _I'm_ doing a better job of it than you right now. Doing as Dad says."

"He spoke with you? And, if you died . . . He brought you back?" Hurt raged in the eyes of the man that looked an awful lot like a younger John Winchester. Clearly Amara had created vessels for them, too.

"Not like I know why."

"Michael," Eva interrupted, "You can end this. You can follow your Father again."

"I'm not the good son anymore . . . I'm the better son. Better than He ever hoped for me to be." And he summoned his dark blade. There, in a field a few miles from the bunker, where Gabriel had gone to avoid blowing up the humans.

"Two versus one? That's an arrogant gamble, Mike. Luci's thing."

"Who said it was just me?" he asked, snapping his fingers. Demons appeared—Alistair and a few others.

"Hello, Eva. Not very good company you keep."

"I'd say the same," she said, pulling out her scythe.

* * *

Adam, Castiel, Samandriel, and Balthazar were rallying angels under a similar pretense.

"I don't think you have any idea what you are doing," frowned Ambriel, in the form of a young girl with glasses.

"That's where you're right," sighed Samandriel, "We don't. But Father does, and He's giving some guidance again. Please help us against the false angels," he pleaded.

"I'm just a number-cruncher. I'm not a hero," she argued.

"Every angel is something," shrugged Adam.

"For what it's worth, I believe we can make a _large_ difference, Ambriel. I have confidence in our Father's plan."

"That makes one of us . . . I'll follow you, though. I've heard plenty about you, Castiel, and . . . I believe I can have faith, too."

* * *

A golden pillar of light struck the ground, hitting Amara where she stood. She fell to the ground, but opened her eyes and got back up only minutes later. Blotches of darkness heralded the arrival of her followers—Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Lilith, Abaddon, Alistair, and Dean. Their respective minions that she'd had them gather were behind them.

"Shall I send them to smite more of your children?" she shouted, "Should I knock them from their cloud above, break their wings?"

"That won't be necessary," said a small voice.

"And what will you do, little seraph?" asked Amara, smirking.

"Not me alone. I might get a demon or two. But the real heroes are coming. I'm just the messenger. They're coming to fight. If you surrender, no one else will get hurt and we can all walk away and talk about this."

"You're a messenger, hm?" Amara grabbed the young angel's arm, and in a flash of light, she screamed.

"Give them this message for me, then." Burned into her arm, in ragged scars:

_I AM COMING_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the irony of the quote. Most of the major players on our side have died and come back. The armor is loosely based off of the inspiration art by . Sam pretending to be the Devil was an idea I'd been tossing around but wasn't planning on using till I wrote the chapter. Also about halfway through writing this chapter I watched 11x10, Devil in the Details, and asldkfjasdlk is all I have to say about that episode, besides that it gave me good ideas for imagery and little plot pieces. Like Rowena betraying them all. And a cute, likeable angel to stick in. I dunno, the little dorky secretary angel just . . . I kept her. And had her bring Amara's message instead, since Cas is not about to be made "expendable" by any means


	24. The War Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm preparation comes before the storm.

**The War Begins**

_**No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies** _

_**To rift the fiery night that's in your eyes . . .** _

_**~Edwin Arlington Robinson, "Luke Havergal"** _

* * *

Ambriel returned to the bunker where Castiel had taken her, shaking.

"She . . . has a message." She held out her arm.

"Looks like we've got to fight," Balthazar said quietly, calmly, "But did any of you really expect anything else?"

"Can't help but try," shrugged Crowley, who had entered, "Avoiding a mess if you can is always a good choice. Of course, this is going to be messy."

"Demons, too?" asked Balthazar with a frown.

"This is a fight against Heaven, Earth, and Hell," said Jo, loading a water gun with holy water. She had handed the first one to Charlie, who had gleefully suggested it, along with mixing the fuel with holy oil in a flamethrower. The flamethrower idea had been trashed at Gabriel's mention of "literal friendly fire".

"I don't know if those knives will kill angels, but they'll definitely slow them down. I added a banishing sigil into them so when you stab, there'll be plenty of blood to activate it," said Dean, pointing out the new marks.

"That's a great idea," Adam nodded, impressed.

"And my scythe is plenty capable of killing whoever needs to die right off," Eva put on her ring and summoned the shining blade.

"Duly noted. Get my mum for me if I can't," Crowley said, "My minions won't be much against knights or angels, but they can certainly pick off other demons. That was the order—clean up and clean out."

"Same with the hounds?" asked Adam.

"No, they're on strict guard dog orders. Help the humans."

"Funny, ours too," snorted Sam.

"That's the point. Hounds stick together and I figured that's what you'd have them do."

"They're going to be in this fight. I know I can't convince them not to be. Might as well protect them," shrugged Dean.

"And any chance God's going to be a part of this?" asked Bobby. "Because I'd feel a lot safer if that were the case."

"I don't know," Castiel frowned, "I can only hope."

"Hoping isn't going to be very good for morale, old friend," sighed Balthazar, "But I suppose it will have to do."

"Perhaps not," said a quiet, gentle voice.

"And just who are you?" Crowley asked, crossing his arms. Chuck smiled.

"The prophet? What are you doing here?" frowned Bobby, "Information? Visions?"

"Not a prophet, Bobby," Sam smiled, "Rather than go through someone to write, He wrote His gospels this time . . ."

"You mean—"

"Father?" asked Ambriel, faltering slightly. Chuck smiled.

"Yes, my child. I'm here now."

* * *

A desert. A long stretch of space, void of life, void of evidence thereof. Just emptiness and dust for miles.

"Brother," Amara said, appearing in the midst of it. "Where are you? Will you hear me now?"

"I've always heard you, sister. It is you who has not heard me," Chuck replied, standing too far for any human ear to catch it. Not that she was human.

"Then what are your answers? What did you say?" she asked. "What did you seal me away for?"

"For them. So that they may live. That beauty and sorrow and hatred and kindness could all come to be. Substance. Life."

"All that you are, and all that I am not," she observed.

"You've consumed people and monsters alike, Amara. Surely you must know a bit of what I mean from their life forces and memories," Chuck said, shifting his weight backward slightly.

"Perhaps. I just can't find it in myself to believe that what you did was worth it. After all, it was at the cost of me."

"You know that's not true. You tried to consume me. You tried to overtake me."

"And you me. The only difference is that you succeeded."

"And warned you to stop."

"Stop what? Existing? Being as I am?"

"Change is possible, even with us," he said gently, sadly.

"You haven't changed. You're just ready to lock me up again," she muttered, low and forceful. A wind picked up.

"I stood aside for too long. I let you destroy too much."

"Because you wouldn't answer!" she shouted back, a feral look to her now, "I looked for you. I prayed. I asked, all those years, sealed up—why? What made you choose them over me?"

"The same thing that made you choose nothingness and void over me."

"Peace. Bliss," she quipped, "That's what I offer. You call it void. Then I call your love and mercy cheap affection and weakness. It's not the same, and yet you give it that name."

"If I offered you a world to make your own, let you take care of it as long as I have this world in particular, would you?" he asked. "Would you lock me away to keep it safe yourself?"

"Don't change the subject," she snapped. 

"Then I suppose we have no reason to continue arguing. We can't coexist without fighting, and yet, without one, the other doesn't really exist . . . I still love you, for what it's worth," he sighed.

"And I loved you, brother." She snapped her fingers, and the leaders of her army stood at her side, including the new addition of Rowena. Another snap, and their ranks stood behind them. Behind Him appeared His five archangels, the King of Hell, and his Host with other humans and demons.

"Then they'll fight this battle for us?" she asked, amused to some degree, "You'll let them die for you?"

"No. They fight _with_ us. You and I will just be above the battlefield so we don't mess up their affairs and can focus on one another," Chuck's face had hardened.

Her Knight stepped forward. He was grinning arrogantly across the way, black eyes gleaming. Dean glared at his mirror image.

"My general," she explained, "He's in charge, now that I'm leaving my army." She pushed aside a bit of the fabric of her dress to show the Mark of Cain, which, when she pressed it, seemed to affect the demon directly, black smoke swirling at his feet. Chuck appeared unaffected.

"I don't have a general among them. They are all fighting for the same reason."

"And that is?"

"To bring you down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing fight scenes, and they hate being written by me. So this is the result. Trash talk to start, of course. I like writing Amara's character, even though I'm not a big fan of hers. Maybe it's because I'm writing it my own way. This is kind of the epic battle that didn't happen in the season finale, instead happening some time before it. I don't get why Chuck was so suddenly powerless against her in the show exactly--they're equals in power, at least the way I read it, and with her being locked up for so long he's had time to hone his skills. I love their dynamic, even before seeing the finale when I wrote this.


	25. The War: Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle rages.

**The War: Darkness**

_**But there, where western glooms are gathering,** _

_**The dark will end the dark, if anything . . .** _

_**~Edwin Arlington Robinson, "Luke Havergal"** _

* * *

There was no snap to warn them as the entities exploded in light, color, darkness, and sound. Dust swirled where they once stood as they disappeared in a flurry of pure, crackling energy.

"Well, I guess that's our cue to duke it out," said Demon Dean, eyes going black. The hundreds of demons on both sides did the same.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Dean pulled out his angel blade, which was an impressive sword, Excalibur-style. The other angels also drew their blades on his side. Michael mirrored the action, and the angels on their side did the same. Rowena began to chant, and suddenly humans under her attack dog spell burst forward, beginning the fight.

Lucifer confronted Gabriel.

"Really? Back with dear old Dad?"

"Jealous?" _Clang!_ The dark, twisted angel blade met the armor, but did not dent it Gabriel grinned grimly.

"Let's dance, Luci!" and charged.

Dean was fighting himself, literally. The demon had some sort of First-Blade replica and was fully enjoying his ability to use it.

"What are you, Prince Charming?" _Crash!_

"Speak for yourself, 'Knight'." _Clang!_

"I am," he grinned. With a swipe, the blade caught Dean's arm. He growled in frustration.

Adam was sizing up Michael. "Different from the outside," he mused. Michael was Heaven's General—Adam was a med student. How he planned on winning that one, he wasn't sure. But it didn't matter, because Adam wasn't about to lose.

"Well, would you look at that," Eva stood, staring down Alistair.

"Death, now. 'Be not proud'," he quoted, "'death, thou shalt die'."

"John Donne. You've done your reading," Eva shrugged her shoulders back, as if working out kinks in her muscles. "Pity. I'm not interested in you anymore. You're not my student. I'm here to destroy you, not break you, and make up for the torment I've set upon the world in your form."

"That's too bad, because you can't make up for something like that," he smiled easily. "And you'll barely even touch me, much less kill me," he said.

"Luckily, that's all I'll have to do," she replied, clutching the ring hanging from her neck.

Castiel was facing Raphael at first, but had switched opponents in the fray. He recognized the demons vaguely as ones he'd fought before. He smote one after another, stabbing what he couldn't reach with his hand.

Dean glanced off to the side to see Castiel taking on an army of demons and winning.

"Pay attention, dumbass," warned his demon doppelganger, nearly landing another blow, "I know all your tricks."

"Not all of them," Dean grinned before stretching his wings wide at last, buffeting winds knocking the demon to the ground.

"What—"

And Dean was flying, just a few feet off the ground, and the Knight of Darkness didn't stand a chance. Dean could move one way or another, any direction—he could flip over the demon without batting an eye, use his wings as a shield or as a weapon. There was a brief struggle, and then he ran his sword right through his counterpart's chest.

Raphael had joined the fray again, and Castiel had taken him on. The remainder of demons were scattered, gone—only to either be torn apart by protective hellhounds or to be stabbed by a Hunter waiting at the perimeter. Charlie would slow them down, blasting them with holy water, and Jo would go in for the kill—or Bobby or Ellen would do the same. Between the smitings and the stabbings, the demon part of the Darkness's army was dwindling.

And Eva only pressed a finger to Alistair's head before he collapsed, dead.

Sam had been taking out the attack dogs, working his way to Rowena, when a female demon popped up and took a literal stab at him.

"You do realize it's going to take a lot more than that to kill me, right?"

"Of course Sam . . . I know better . . . don't you recognize me?" And he paled, because though it was a different host than before, he could _see_ her now, and that was enough.

"Ruby."

He didn't even give it another thought. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved his angel blade crackling with Grace right through her stomach. His wings disappeared as she flailed, grabbing for them, anything to cause pain.

"But—you—"

"But nothing. I should never have listened to you." And he let her drop before turning to see Rowena about to cast the spell again.

"Nice try," he said, but she finished her incantation and the attackers were on him again. Crowley found her and glowered, a knife in his hand.

"Really, Fergus?" she asked, stepping back.

"Wearing heels to fight wasn't your smartest plan, Mother," he said, storming closer. "Just a question, before I end your little bout of fun. Why do you hate me?"

"Because," she said, continuing to back away, "If I didn't hate you, I would love you. But love is weakness. And I will never. Never, ever be weak again," she snarled.

"The terrible thing about that," he said, grabbing her arm, "is that I've found hatred is weakness, too. There's strength in both, mother, and weakness in both. The trick is finding out how to work out the weaknesses. Or to stamp out both altogether and just not care." He dropped the knife before picking something else up entirely, latching an odd object around her throat.

"What have you done?" she screeched.

"Stopped you in your tracks. I'm sure you've seen a witch's trap before, Mother? Now, tell me . . . what's the best way to end this fight?"

* * *

In all truth, the Darkness's minions weren't able to handle the fight. She's mobilized too quickly, not built up their strengths. The hunters were exhausted from the hours of fighting—Eva took over Adam's fight to send him to take care of them.

"Let me handle this, Eva; I've wanted to kick this douche's ass for a _long_ time."

And Sam was suddenly facing Lucifer, so there was that.

"The armor suits you," the fallen angel chuckled.

"Yeah, I've heard. You _do_ know what happens if Amara takes over, right?"

"Of course. And I'd be totally willing to leave this specially-made vessel and end it for your side if you happened to say yes."

"So you can take over in the aftermath and try to start the apocalypse," Sam said doubtfully.

"Nah, I'll move to LA, solve crimes."

"Bull. Not like it'll really work anyway," Sam hefted his sword, "Seeing as it'd be a little crowded for two angels in one body."

"Two—you're not?"

"I am. Gabriel told me you guys might remember—the Seven Heavenly Trials, ring any bells?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed.

"No. Dad didn't."

"He did." And Sam spread his wings wide and menacing, preparing to fight.

* * *

It was down to the former archangels and the current ones, the battle in a stalemate otherwise. And neither could kill the other. The dark blades Amara created did little damage, but the Angel Blades also barely left scratches on the three. So it became a fight to get one another's blades, once Michael made a grab for Dean's.

"Oh, no you don't!" Eva swept in, scythe slicing in a wide arc in front of her. She began chanting in Enochian, which all the angels present understood:

_Five lights gathered within the blades_

_Three shadows now to be locked away_

_Beyond the Earth, the feathers fly_

_In angel wings, in their disguise_

And the angel blades glowed, shrinking. They were feathers again, hanging around each angel's neck on a cord.

"Um, Eva, what the hell are you doing?" Dean shouted.

"They can't hurt you with their blades. And now they can't hurt you with your own, either."

And with three hunters who knew a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat, it wasn't all that difficult to wrestle away the dark archangels' blades and end that part of the war.

A crash alerted them to God and Amara finishing their fight. Amara was bloody, panting, and oozing shadows like steam.

"This has gone on long enough, sister," Chuck said, seeming a little ruffled but otherwise unharmed, "I know there is no peace we can ever hold between us. You've made that so. Eva, could you bring back their blades, please?" She did, chanting again. The angels readied themselves.

The Darkness was going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, fight scenes? Not my thing. But I had some people that needed to face some people, while war went on in the background. Dean VS Deanmon? Absolutely! Sam VS Lucifer? Heck yeah! The quote for these three war chapters is from one of my favorite poems, which I read in junior year high school English. This stanza fit perfectly and I've been dying to use it.  
> Also you can probably tell what episode I was on just by the quotes in the chapter lol


	26. The War: Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dust settles. There is still work to be done.

**The War: Light**

_**God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,** _

_**And hell is more than half of paradise.** _

_**~Edwin Arlington Robinson, "Luke Havergal"** _

* * *

"Good. Now we can end it." She stared at him, eyes filled with some fathomless emotion.

"I have seen your creation, brother," she said. "It is broken, but . . . beautiful." She did not attempt to hide her looking at Dean, who glared back.

"Agreed. And that is why I intend to keep it." And he set a hand on her shoulder.

"Now's a better time than any," he urged, and the archangels swung their blades as one.

Time seemed to stop.

A young girl, perhaps thirteen, lay in Amara's place. She seemed to be asleep. Chuck gingerly picked her up. The Mark was still on her collarbone—it was most definitely still Amara.

"What—" asked Gabriel, frowning. Eva stared in shock at the girl's form.

"That's—that's—" She looked like she was seeing a ghost.

"The Darkness . . . I—when she was powerful I didn't notice, but her essence, her power . . ."

"I know Eva. I've deceived you again. And for that, I am sorry. The souls and grace she absorbed has been released."

"What, what's going on?" asked Adam, reaching for Eva.

"I'm not a Nephilim. I'm not part angel at all. What have you done?" she snarled in Chuck's face, scythe glinting threateningly in the reflection of her eyes.

"Lucifer had no part in your creation," Chuck admitted. Everyone stared at him.

"Then what—is she?" asked Sam.

"My niece. The Darkness's only angel." Everyone's jaws dropped.

"And so you trained me as your own to help take down my Mother," she seethed.

"No. The girl you see here . . . she is still Amara. But she has no clue. Much like you. Her influence slipped to a human woman to give birth to a human baby that housed your essence, and everyone assumed you were a Nephilim and treated you as such."

"And then what happens to her?"

"She lives on as a child with me and Becky until more of the Plan is—"

"Screw the plan! What will happen to her?" she asked.

"That is for you to decide, Eva."

"Wha—me?"

"You are Death. You have the choice here. Either you can sever any ties she has to humanity and send her off to where you think is best . . . or you can trust that I will do right by her for once."

"So she's our _cousin_ ," Gabriel frowned, "That is beyond weird."

"God," she sighed, looking down at the little girl, "She's only a child now."

"One that I will love like I should have from the beginning. And now I can do it right—her powers and need to destroy are locked away, thanks to all of our combined efforts. When she is old enough . . . well, _that's_ a long way off . . . we'll talk."

"I understand," she sighed.

* * *

"So you're the Darkness's one and only angel?" asked Adam.

"And Death, don't forget Death," she replied.

"I was thinking about the chocolate," he teased, and a smile returned to her face.

"The power of the Darkness left you when you agreed to my Plan," Chuck replied, "Now you are a being of light. Much of my power was diminished when you agreed in order to dispel the Darkness inside. But the archangels pulled through where I could not have," he smiled a little. Eva shifted uncomfortably.

"All right then. . . Now. Crowley, I think you should take your mother and your demons home before people get smitey," she warned, and the King of Hell regarded her for a moment before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

"I'll take the humans home," she suggested, "To heal up and rest. Then we can fill them in on the clean-up."

The fact that three archangels still needed to be dealt with had escaped them.

"Father?" asked Michael blearily, like he was waking up.

"Great. Now you choose to show up," Lucifer snapped, though the hurt in his eyes was also visible.

"I'm so sorry, my wayward sons," he said, and Dean snorted, humming the tune for a few moments before Sam elbowed him.

"Can it," the middle Winchester muttered. Dean only grinned-they'd won. That's all that really mattered.

"Sorry?" Lucifer growled, "Sorry for what? Locking me up in a cage, not even doing it yourself, _leaving?"_

"All of the above," and a crackle of energy seemed to surround him.

"Then what now?" snarled Raphael suddenly, "I believed you were dead!"

Chuck stared at the ground and had the decency to look ashamed.

"I might as well have been. What I'd done . . . my Will, my Plan . . . I'd faltered myself. And it nearly destroyed me," he admitted.

"You—nearly died?" asked Raphael, skeptical.

"You're not the only one who can fake death and hide away. Lucifer may have taught you that, but who do you think taught _him?_ Michael?" Chuck snorted, "Don't be ridiculous. I was human. Spreading my power among the life forces of the universe, keeping one centralized vessel in case I needed it. My power was spread thin when the Apocalypse was nearly started again. I was barely conscious of the fact of who I was. But I gathered myself a little more power, so I could take part in events. And saw the pain I'd inflicted on my children." He winced, "And decided my role in the world was not finished. My powers are not what they used to be in one entity. I am not able to make huge changes on my own. I can influence, but not control. It is part of the Plan, and part of free will."

"What, so now you're back, and everything's better?" asked Lucifer sullenly.

"Cut it out, Luc," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "He doesn't win World's Best Dad award, but we're not exactly the best children either. When you killed me, I told you—you had a temper tantrum, that's it, and when Michael had to put you into time out—"

"Stop referring to us all as children unless you want to be called a runaway because you couldn't handle your siblings fighting over a toy," Michael seethed.

"I watched you guys tear each other apart," Gabriel reminded him, "And I'm still perfectly fine with the analogy. Mike has the protective, commanding older brother complex. Luc had a tantrum. Raphael had a stick up his ass trying to outshine the older and younger siblings. I've been told before how childish I am—Kali always said so," he chuckled. "It's a part of me. Being the youngest and all. Can't help being a brat. It's what little brothers do, eh Sammy, Adam?" he asked with a grin.

"So what's going to happen to them?" asked Adam curiously, ignoring Gabriel.

"I imagine execution," Raphael said repentantly, accepting.

"Absolutely not," Chuck replied, a determination in his eyes that hinted at his heavenly power. "You . . . can never be my archangels again, I'm afraid. The Trials transferred and soldered your graces to human souls—forever changed and irremovable. However, I still have a Plan for you three, if you are willing to follow it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Eva twist wasn't planned at first, neither was the de-aged Amara, but it kind of wrote itself in. Surprise? I didn't want it to seem cheesy, but in the end I liked it better than her being the devil's daughter. And I didn't want to outright kill Amara, either. This chapter was written before Don't Call Me Shurley was even aired, so any resemblance to the actual season finale doesn't exist.


	27. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael are given a choice.

**Penance**

_**Man, when he is merely what he seems to be, is almost nothing. ~Antonio Porchia** _

* * *

"I wish for you three to become what I meant you to protect. To be human. That is my Plan."

Needless to say, Lucifer had a meltdown. Raphael was quiet but indignant. And Michael, surprisingly, had grown angry as well.

"You would have us be pitiful and weak?"

"Human, not weak," Chuck replied.

"Humans are pretty damn strong. Don't underestimate us," Dean said.

"You aren't human anymore," Raphael pointed out.

"Doesn't mean we're any different than who we used to be. Hell, Sam kicked two out of three asses here alone before he ever had any feathers," Dean pointed out.

"We were human to start with," Adam said, "And our souls are still there, and these are our bodies. We've just got extra now. So really, being human, you're only going to miss out on snapping yourself whatever and wherever you want."

"Humans are nothing," glared Lucifer.

"Yeah, we sure seem like it from the outside, from way up in heaven," shrugged Sam.

"But I'd say otherwise, up close, humans are pretty damn awesome," Dean continued, "Look at the Hunters. We've taken down plenty, despite being 'weak'."

"Why should we listen to you now?" glared Raphael, "Father, after all this time?"

"Because you want to. I won't tell you what to do."

"I'll do it," Raphael blurted after a moment. Everyone stared at him.

"Would've figured you be a little more resistant to being a 'mud monkey'."

"Don't make me change my mind, Winchester," he snapped back.

"Hey, not trying to," Dean put his hands up in surrender. With a thought, he sent away his armor, back into his usual jeans, button up shirt, and jacket.

Sam and Adam did the same, and they were all standing there in the desert, completely average-looking.

"Why this? Why not just let us die?" Michael asked.

"I thought you might like to see what it's like to live as a human before you go to heaven as one. Amara didn't resurrect you properly. She used her absorbed human and demon energies, only absorbing a few angels. Not enough to recreate three archangels."

"So we're already human," guessed Michael, shaking slightly. Lucifer's eyes bugged out.

"And you can choose to move on—be hunters, be normal, run off . . . Or I can give you a fresh start. And you can live authentic human lives like you deserve."

"A new punishment?"

"No. A penance. My penance. Because I will protect you along it, though my power is spread thin. I will give you what you ask for in life. And for you, it is a reward, despite the wrongs you each have done. A second chance."

"What if I don't want you to?" glared Michael.

"Dude, why wouldn't you want him to?" Dean asked, "Finally free of all that Heaven's General responsibility. I'd take a vacation if I were you."

"And you find humanity a vacation?"

"No. It's nearly hell. Sometimes it is. But I certainly wouldn't trade it given the option," he shrugged, "So I'd consider it if I were you. Which I'm not. But yeah."

Michael frowned. Lucifer glared.

"And I've been in your head," Adam pointed out, "So I'm guessing you're figuring you'll be no good to your father anymore. You've already failed him. Et cetera. Which sounds a lot like Sam or Dean talking," he joked.

"Douche," Dean muttered.

"Jerk," Adam replied, pausing afterwards. Sam grinned, raising his eyebrows, noting the new name.

"How cute," snorted Lucifer, noticing the exchange.

"So, my boys, what do you say?" asked Chuck.

"Fine," Michael sighed, "If I am human already, I should at least get the experience before returning to Heaven. But I won't be much of a human."

"You _do_ sound like Dean," Sam snickered. Lucifer laughed and Michael's eyes narrowed.

"You little bitch, Sammy!" Dean growled.

"If you are concerned about human protocol, Eva can put a wall in your memories," Chuck smiled.

"We wouldn't know who we were?" demanded Raphael.

"Only if that's what you want," Chuck said, "Like I said, I'm giving you choices. I should have done from the beginning."

Raphael, Lucifer, and Michael began talking, occasionally arguing. Eventually, they calmed down.

"I'm sure you've heard our decision, Father?" asked Michael.

"I have. And would you like Gabriel along as an angel guardian until you remember?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm not losing my little brother again," Lucifer said, voice tight.

"Are you . . . making them my charges, Dad?"

"I am. And they are going back in time somewhat as well as being de-aged, so that they will be in Heaven soon but can still live long lives. They've each agreed to not know about the supernatural world at all, but to be introduced to it at a certain time and then to regain some of their memories over their lifetimes but not all. I'll let you keep your names, and no one will question the old-fashioned archangel thing."

"Lucifer, Michael, and Raphael Edlund," guessed Castiel with a small smile.

"Exactly," nodded Chuck, "I'll see you three sometime soon, then. I love you boys." He snapped.

* * *

_Mike smiled to himself. He was a freshman in college at Stanford, and his brothers were both still in high school. Naturally his wild roommate, a guy named Eric, brought him to the party with plenty of alcohol. Mike hadn't let loose like this before . . . he had been too busy setting a good example for his brothers. One little beer wouldn't kill him, though, and he wasn't going to be a complete hardass anymore. Especially after his younger brother had run away and he'd had to look for him with his baby brother. Luc had admitted he was afraid Mike might hurt him after an argument._

_Mike had never laid a hand on his brother like that. He refused to let his anger get too much of a hold on him, to become whatever his little brother feared he might be. He wouldn't let himself ever actually hurt Luc._

_So he was loosening up. Hard to do, when he was determined to pay for his own education so his parents would be willing to pay for Luc and Raph. No crazy partying—but enough to relax._

_He ran straight into a tall, lanky guy on the way in. Smooth, Mike. Real smooth._

_"Dude, sorry," Mike said, glad neither had been holding a drink to spill._

_"Don't worry about it, man," shrugged the guy. He looked bizarrely familiar, even though Mike was sure he'd never seen the guy in his life. Something popped into his head-Winchester. He didn't know any Winchesters._

_"Sam, come on!" giggled the girl that was grabbing his hand. Mike recognized her—Jessica, a junior from his American History course. He'd had enough AP credit to skip some classes._

_"Hey, Mike," she called over her shoulder, "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself." He smiled._

_"Me, too."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-daa! Human archangels! Obviously they're not happy with the predicament originally. This is where a possible related fic will come from. And I figured I wouldn't want to kill them off in the end, especially after seeing Luci back in 11x09 onward. And Michael being a human, well . . . couldn't pass up that little tidbit. Thought it would be much appreciated, especially if I never get around to writing that other fic or drop it at any point.


	28. Pray for a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam visits a friend. Things are settling in for everyone.

**Pray for a Deal**

_**Perchance God will pity a race that sought the better angels of its nature and found only its lesser demons. ~Robert Brault** _

* * *

The surreal feeling of being back home didn't leave Adam. They'd said their goodbyes, cleaned up, and snapped themselves to their respective places—the archangels ending up at Singer Salvage, the new humans in another time, and God off to Becky. The other seraphs had gone home to heaven at the sight of Amara's defeat, a silent order from God.

"I wonder where he sent the three of them," Dean said, downing a beer.

"Wish I knew," shrugged Sam.

"Actually," Gabriel said quietly, "I have to be their guardian. Check up on them and stuff. And . . . well . . . Mike went to Stanford. Was a freshman when you were a junior, Sam-a-lamb."

" _What_?" Sam spluttered. Gabriel shrugged.

"Dunno why He did it that way. Then again, he's the weirdo that wrote bad narratives on your lives, remember?"

Meanwhile people were discussing where and what they were doing next.

"I got a call from a lady named Jody Mills," Bobby admitted, "Mentioned something about strange disappearances in her county. I might go check it out.

"Well, we can't have you going alone," Ellen said, "You might scare her off."

"I certainly don't need _your_ help doing so," Bobby replied. Jo snickered.

"I've been meaning to meet up with an old friend," Adam shrugged, "So I'd better call him, too. Should we all meet up back here or—"

"I think there's another stop on that list," Eva interrupted, "I'm pretty sure you want to visit Heaven now that no one's going to attack you at first glance? And talk with the people that didn't want to come back down?"

"Sounds like a plan," Sam nodded.

* * *

Adam gaped.

"Eva. You can't be serious."

"Your friend's girlfriend is dying. It's still stoppable, but the doctors can't do anything. She had a brain injury during the car crash and is in a coma. There's a reaper waiting for her. But archangel healing, that'll do the trick." Her eyes widened. "No . . . he's . . . the reaper just informed me there's a crossroads demon there. You'd better come with me."

"Shit, he's making a deal?!" And they snapped themselves to the hospital, Eva first since she knew where it was.

The room consisted of the girl in the bed, unconscious, a reaper standing by, arms crossed, Mark standing, shaky but strong, and a crossroads demon in a tailored suit grinning widely.

Until Adam and Eva showed up.

"Listen, Luke, not today, all right? She'll live," assured Eva first, and the Reaper walked out, shrugging.

"Fine by me."

"Mark, don't make the deal," warned Adam.

"She's _dying,_ dammit," he glared, ignoring for a moment the fact that Adam and the girl just appeared there out of nowhere, "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"Stopping you from making a huge mistake. I don't know how you learned to summon a demon, but this is ending right here." He walked up briskly to her and pressed two fingers to her forehead to create a current of grace, like Castiel had instructed him. Mark surged forward angrily, but the flash of light left her gasping for breath and sitting up, eyes wide. She glanced around.

"Mark? What—what just happened?" Adam turned to the demon.

"Not a fan of demons that make deals from desperate people. Assholes deserve it—if they're greedy or whatever. But this is not okay. Don't think I won't hesitate to sic a hound on you." The demon's eyes widened and they nodded, teleporting out—Mark hadn't even put a devil's trap down! Adam turned.

"That was really stupid and dangerous, man," he sighed, but Mark was too busy gaping at him.

"Demons aren't the way to go. Trust me. My brother tried that and it wasn't pretty," he remembered how the mere mention of Alistair had, on occasion, affected Dean.

"What—what the hell are you?" he asked instead of replying.

"I'm an angel now. Technically an archangel. I was normal when we met, but things happened," he shrugged.

"Who is this?" asked Emma from the bed.

"Adam, that guy from college, the one who got us out of the crash . . . were you . . ."

"Not then, but I wasn't exactly normal either."

"So God's real?"

"Yeah, and he's sometimes an asshole. His girlfriend makes good cookies though," he said thoughtfully. Mark stared incredulously.

"You've got to be shitting me right now."

"Nah. How else would Eva and I have gotten here so fast and taken care of things?"

Emma just seemed confused. Eva rolled her eyes.

"Horseman of Death. Nice to meet you. The archangel here is my boyfriend and I'm sorry for the bluntness already of this conversation. But basically a bunch of supernatural things are real, us now included. Adam's going to kinda be your guys' guardian now, if I had to guess. Archangels don't often get charges, but you were friends, after all."

"So I can pray to the Archangel Adam in my time of need," snorted Mark.

"Yup," Adam grinned, popping the 'p'. "Or Dean, or Sam, or Castiel, or Gabriel. Dean's a bit of a jerk, Sam might bitch about me, Cas is . . . well sometimes a bit clueless but otherwise fine, and Gabriel, well, he's also Loki, so don't mess with him. But yeah."

"What about Michael, Lucifer, or Raphael?" asked Emma, finally contributing, "Aren't they the original three, with Gabriel?"

"Yeah, but it's . . . complicated with them."

"Isn't everything?"

"I'll tell you the story sometime. I'm gonna be late to dinner if I don't hurry back. But I'll see you guys around!" Adam waved and snapped, disappearing. Eva rolled her eyes.

"Really. He's having too much fun with this teleporting thing. Anyway. Don't do demon deals, kids. I can't get your souls out of hell, even if I am Death. Stay safe. Bye." And she was gone, too.

* * *

"And what is to become of me, Fergus?" Rowena asked.

"Well, you've committed treachery, completely disregarded my authority, I hate your guts, and really, I ought to just kill you so you can't do it again. But that would be a mercy. You know how a witch's trap works, mother?"

"It condenses and controls our magic power."

"And in addition makes you my bitch. So. Hop on one foot." She glared at him, but seconds later was hopping, the heel of her shoe clicking on the floor.

"So. My back is sore." He kicked his feet up on to the table in front of him.

"Give me a massage."

* * *

Raphael stared at the cross hanging in the church. After seeing his mother suffer in the hospital, he had a hard time having faith in a loving, merciful god.

"I'm not sure what to believe anymore," he sighed.

"You've said that before," observed a voice from behind him. He turned. Two people, about his age, were standing in the aisle.

"No. This is the first time I've admitted anything like that," he argued, and it was true. He'd had his doubts with his somewhat-religious parents' beliefs for a few years now, but he'd not said a word.

"Maybe. Maybe not," smiled the girl. "I'm Ambriel. This is Samandriel. And you're Raphael."

"How'd you know? Are you a parishioner, or a friend of Luc's?"

"Neither, really," shrugged the guy with the ridiculously long name.

"You might say we're just an errand-girl and her considerate boyfriend," she smirked a little, pushing her glasses up her nose. Raphael snorted at the little apologetic grimace the blonde guy gave. Being a freshman in high school with two older brothers enlightened him to the way relationships worked much quicker than the average kid. Especially with Luc. This guy was _whipped_. He probably hadn't had a choice to come.

"And what's the errand?"

"To let you know that God is watching you and your brothers."

"You're not Jehovah's Witnesses?" he glared.

"No. Really. Believe me, there's a God. He's a little less perfect than humans claim, has a drinking problem, but he's not forgotten you three."

"Why us?" She smiled.

"Not allowed to tell yet. But He figured you'd need a pep talk."

"What?" but they were gone. He blinked. No one else was in the church. Huh.

He looked up the names Samandriel and Ambriel when he got home. Angels were mentioned. A relieved little smile crept up his face.

_Thank you for watching. Thank you for telling me that you're here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tying up a few loose ends with Mark and Emma, showing Raphael he has a God to believe in. And a little Samandriel/Ambriel (Sambriel? Samambriel?) cuteness because even though they haven't even interacted in the show it just. Seems. So. Adorkable. 
> 
> Looking back on it, the only human angel I didn't give a sneak peak into was Lucifer . . . because reasons. If I do end up writing anything along their lives, it'll be loads shorter than this but will include these two flashbacks.


	29. Victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is celebration for the victors.

**Victorious**

_**Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today. ~James Dean** _

* * *

No one knew who did it, but no one was complaining either. The punch was spiked with a mead from a pagan tradition or another, so even the angels could get tipsy.

Sam had a strong suspicion it was from Asgard, specifically brought by Gabriel, but said nothing of it.

And the humans in heaven, being already dead, were only affected like they'd be with regular alcohol. Balthazar was doing the first round of bad karaoke, and Dean was eyeing the microphone after him.

Mary and Castiel were talking quietly at a booth, sipping a little bit of the drink but not enough to get much more than a buzz.

"What are my boys like, Castiel? You've been with them a while. I've been away a long time."

"They are brave, kind, strong. Beyond loyal. Protective. Dean is more compassionate than he acts initially to anyone, while Sam puts his whole heart into everything he does." Mary smiled at the description of her two boys.

"I can see why Dean cares about you so much. You're so sweet," she smiled. Castiel smiled back.

"I'm glad you think so."

John was having a conversation with Adam and Eva, asking about the way things had gone down and how Bobby was doing. At the mention of Jody Mills and the hunt/date that Eva was convinced was more social than the gruff hunter let on, John grinned conspiringly. Sam had bought Kevin Tran a burger, apologizing for Gadreel's actions, but Kevin would have none of it.

"It's more Dean's fault than yours, and I was tired of what was going on anyway. That's why I didn't go back."

"Still. I'm sorry about taking away whatever experiences you could've had, all the same."

"And they had a bunch of original songs, and I swear, a bunch of teenage girls playing us was _so_ freaky," Dean said, "You'd love it," he added begrudgingly. Gabriel guffawed.

"I'll have to pop in and get a DVD of it. Or record it myself. You know. And then thank the girls."

"They might faint," Dean said dryly.

"Only if I tell them Sabriel and Destiel are real," he grinned back.

"I swear if you even think about it—" but the former trickster just laughed.

"Oi, Cassie! I found a few more resurrected angels! Apparently Dad's decided we all deserve a second chance!" Balthazar had finished his song and was tapping Castiel on the shoulder with the news. He stood.

"Who?"

"Some of our old friends. Inias. Rachel. A few others." Castiel's eyes widened.

"Everyone in the garrison . . ."

"Seems like it. They've all returned in the garden with Joshua and are all very confused. He's tending to those in shock. Would you like to go see them?"

Castiel stood up quickly.

"Cas, do you want me to come with?" Dean asked. Castiel smiled.

"I'd like that very much."

* * *

"Castiel!" shouted Inias, and the others followed, quickly crowding around. There were fifteen or so in all.

"What's this?" gasped one. "Archangels? . . . Castiel?"

"It's me, Rachel. Much has happened. Has Joshua explained?"

"Only that we were dead, and that Father has returned, giving us life again," Inias replied, a gruff, accented voice.

"Then you've missed a lot," Castiel sighed, "This is Dean Winchester. Dean, these are Inias and Rachel."

"Hey, nice to meet you," Dean nodded. Rachel and Inias, along with the rest of them, simply stared.

"Michael?" one of the angels behind them asked.

"No. Michael's human now. I'm Dean," he corrected, shrugging. "The same with Lucifer and Raphael. Now my brothers Sam and Adam are angels in their places, Castiel has a promotion, and Gabriel's back." They stared, dumbfounded at the news.

"Perhaps I should explain," Castiel interrupted.

* * *

Gabriel handed Sam a lollipop, who begrudgingly took it.

"Okay. So now what happens? You continue to be Loki, just Gabriel too?"

"Someone has to keep people in line," he shrugged, "And the pagans miss me. Except maybe Thor. He's probably going to ask me how I got back so he can slam Mjonir into whoever did it." Sam sniggered at the idea of the hammer flying right past Gabriel's head into a wall.

"And you, Sam?" Sam paused.

"I think . . . I'm going to keep tabs on Hell. But still be a hunter."

"Yeah, that Crowley's a slippery one. Got to keep him in check," Heaven's Herald nodded. "Might not see much of each other, with all that running around."

"We've made it work so far, Gabe." Gabriel was quiet for a moment before getting up.

"Sam. I don't want to pressure you to stay with me now that things are over but—"

"Dammit, Gabriel, you are _not_ breaking up with me."

"But I—"

"You are?"

"No!"

"Then what the hell?" Sam was upset. He'd fallen hard for Gabriel. He was sure before that the angel, in his own way, felt the same.

"Agh, Sam, shoulda thought this through a little more. But I'm more of a spur of the moment person," he shrugged, before taking Sam's hands in his own.

And dropping to one knee.

* * *

"YES! Yes! Oh my GOD, YES!" Adam heard Sam shriek from nearby. He made a face.

"Please tell me that isn't something mentally scarring."

"It isn't something mentally scarring."

"Smartass."

"Takes one to know one," Eva shoved him playfully, "But it's not, really. Gabriel just popped the question." Adam's eyebrows shot up.

"No way."

"It's true," she grinned, "Look for a ring on your older brother's finger next time we have dinner at Bobby's. Watch him squirm before he tells everyone. It'll be hilarious."

Adam kissed her.

"You're so cute when you plot things like that."

"Hey, Death's got to entertain herself somehow. I can't be all gloom and doom."

* * *

Thanksgiving a month later was theatrical, to say the least. Ellen insisted on a full out feast at Bobby's, and he was not going to refuse her. It was the first holiday not overshadowed by some big bad waiting to kill them.

"One thing this country has that I thoroughly enjoy—a holiday centered around food," Eva grinned, "Though I'm not opposed to a Christmas Turkey. That's all good too."

"Hey, this is an American thing, Eva, let us have it," Dean pointed the spoon he'd been using to stir the stuffing at her.

"Oh, right, my apologies," she replied sarcastically, "I'll just be in the dinin' room, settin' up the table," she continued in a faked southern accent.

Gabriel and Sam had been there on and off throughout the month, not staying for long. Adam knew why—trying to keep the engagement a surprise while they worked out the logistics—but kept it to himself, sparing knowing glances with Eva whenever Dean or Bobby huffed about them never being home.

Home. Odd how after all this time, it still was.

Bobby was pleasantly ornery, as usual. Jo refused to help in the kitchen—so Dean took her place.

"I didn't know you could cook," Charlie said aside to him as she grabbed some plates.

"Someone had to." The meal was ready, and the table was surprisingly just large enough to fit five archangels, four hunters, and one horseman of the apocalypse.

Sam was glancing at Gabriel when he coughed.

"So get this . . . After all the Darkness stuff happened. Gabriel proposed. And I said yes. And we're getting married."

"Congratulations!" said Jo immediately, echoed by everyone else.

"I'm really proud of you, baby boy," Dean said.

"Would you be my best man, then?" And Dean's face could have broken, he was smiling so big.

"Hell yeah, Sammy!" And then he coughed.

"Which, em, leads me to an important question to ask. Because Sam'll have to return the favor." Immediately everyone sat forward, anticipating what was about to happen. Castiel stared at the ring Dean was presenting him, realizing the archangel of hunters was on one knee. _Dean was proposing. Dean was proposing to_ him.

"Cas, will you make me the happiest man alive?"

"Yes, Dean—" a kiss, "—but I do believe you've just given me that title."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a proposal, you get a proposal, you get a proposal!


	30. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be meta, and there will be fanfiction.

**The Plan**

_**You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. ~Ray Bradbury** _

* * *

Becky smiled as she closed her laptop.

"Funny, isn't it, sweetheart?" she asked Chuck.

"No, actually. It's perfect."

"And this kind of happy ending—will it really last?" asked Amara, like she was asking about a fairy tale. Truth be told, that's all she believed it was—a story, plain and simple.

"It depends on a lot of things, sis," Chuck replied, "What do you think?"

"They deserve to be happy, after all they've given up, all those fights they've fought," the girl replied. "That's a better ending than the one you published," she accused as an afterthought.

"Yes, I suppose so," he laughed, "But you know these things never really end."

"Right. Becky and her friends could get a hold of it," she said, "Fans are crazy."

"That's true," Becky replied, a little miffed, "But we're the best kind of crazy, aren't we?"

"What happens to Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael? Will Crowley stir up trouble? With they have to face the end of the world again?" Amara asked.

"I'll tell you those stories another time," Chuck replied, "It's bedtime. You have school tomorrow."

"But _Chuuuck,_ " she whined.

"Bed," he pointed, and she pouted.

"Fine." She hugged them both and went to her room.

"Are you going to publish the rest?"

"Maybe. I want to have a test reader though," he grinned.

"And who would that be?"

"My four oldest boys of course. I'll have Gabriel handle it at some point."

* * *

Gabriel was running around, preparing decorations, guest lists, and cake tastings, running everything by Sam just in case, and re-checking. It was the first time in a long time he'd been so frazzled.

So when the package fell on his head, he growled, like a feral cat.

"Really, Dad? Now?" He read the note on it and his expression softened.

"Okay. I'll get on that. Once the wedding is over, I'll go back on this little family reunion and book club thing you've got. But this is important for me now." The note's words disappeared, replaced with two in a messy scrawl of a reply.

_Thank you._

* * *

If anyone had told Dean more than two years ago that in 2016 he would be getting married to an angel of the lord, and his brother would be doing likewise, he would have laughed in their face or punched them.

Well, it wasn't like he didn't like Cas before, he just highly doubted he'd take enough time off to do something like that. As it was, he was a little antsy leaving things alone.

"Father assured me he's giving us time to celebrate. He's pulled some strings to give us a break, Dean," Castiel assured when he'd voiced his concerns.

"That's comforting to hear," Dean conceded.

* * *

Amara liked drawing and reading, while the other girls seemed more interested in boys. As she sketched, one of her few new friends leaned over her shoulder to glance at her drawing.

"You read the Supernatural books?" she asked. Amara snorted.

"Kind of have to. My brother's the author. Why?"

"Because that's exactly how I imagined Dean would look like. And whoa, Carver Edlund? Your brother?"

"Well, I'm adopted, or so his girlfriend says. There were some custody issues, but now I live with them. And that's only his pen name. He took it because my adopted last name is Carver."

"Oh, so you're Amara Carver. And then, what's his real name?"

"Chuck. Much less impressive," grinned the thirteen-year-old. "He's even told me how the story continues. He won't publish it yet, though, until he's sure he likes how it's finished. I told him they deserve a freaking happy ending."

"What happens?" asked Cat, who'd befriended her.

"Well, Sam is pulled out of the Cage . . ."

* * *

Cat stretched, yawning. She'd looked over her fanfiction a few times. Marie had told her five times now that it sounded ridiculous, but she just wouldn't have it. She couldn't tell Marie where she'd gotten the idea—her seventh-grade best friend, Amara, who coincidentally had the same name as the final villain and was the author's sister—because then she'd gush and want to know about everything Amara had said about Carver (Chuck, Cat. He's actually Chuck.)

"You _do_ know that the supernatural beings are real, right?" Marie, on skype.

"Right," Cat rolled her eyes, "And there are hunters, and two brothers with a '67 Chevy Impala roaming the country. _Right_."

Marie paused.

" _No_ ," she laughed, "You don't actually—"

"Remember the musical? You saw it. And the exploding scarecrow? That was Calliope, a muse. She was going to kill me, and Sam and Dean—I didn't believe it either, but—"

"Marie. Come _on_. Look. I'll tell you what. I know the author's sister. She told me how he's going to continue the books, if he does it. Did 'Sam' or 'Dean' tell you what goes down?"

"Yeah, Dean did." She relayed Dean's summary of what had happened, watching her friend grow a little pale.

"So . . . so . . . your play . . . you said you met Chuck?"

"Yeah," shrugged Marie.

"Chuck is _God_."

"What?! That's a fan theory—"

"No, no, listen, his sister? Who told me that exact story, plus a continuation? Her name's _Amara_. She's—the Darkness, God's sister, in the story. Here, I'll send you a link to the fic. I just finished it."

"I think you two should listen for a moment." And suddenly they were all in Marie's bedroom, Chuck leaning against the doorframe.

"What the—holy— _no freaking way._ "

"Holy? Yes, actually. Now. We need to talk about what you plan on sharing with the world and how it pertains to what I'm going to publish if things go well."

* * *

Hours later, they understood. Cat just had one more question.

"Then what _is_ the Plan?" He smiled at her.

"Well, you see, I made the Plan a long time ago. And each person is a page in that book. Some overlap. Some have effects on each other's plots in strange ways. I don't write every word of my own accord, though. The stories write themselves. I pen in everything, but not everything is my idea."

"So everyone's piece in the puzzle isn't quite fleshed out yet?"

"I have a Plan. It's your choice whether to follow it or not. Your story will still be written. You will still have a place in my book."

"Wait, we're in your book?" Marie squealed.

"One of the more recent ones. Sam and Dean meeting musically talented fans of the Supernatural books. I just haven't published that particular gospel yet."

"I'd like to read that!" The idea of reading her own self as a character in a series? No, she didn't like the meta stuff, but still!

"And whatever else is coming. I would really like to know the story. Like with your sons suddenly being human," mentioned Cat.

"You'll know," he assured. In a flash of light, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little crack-y, but I can't bear to part with it. Marie is the girl from the Fan Fiction episode, and Cat is me with a different name, because I'm just as conceited as Chuck was to write himself into the narrative. I have no shame.


	31. Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is looking forward to happy endings and new beginnings.

**Carry On**

_**Once I rose above the noise and confusion** _

_**Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion** _

_**I was soaring ever higher . . . ~Kansas** _

* * *

They decided on April, but Sam refused to have it be the first, because he _knew_ Gabriel would use that to his advantage, and no, he wasn't allowed to schedule it on a Tuesday either because 'I want to live this moment again and again and _again_ , Sammy'. No.

So they agreed on April 8. Sam was in a light grey suit with deep burgundy trim. Gabriel was, ever the flashy one, in a gold suit with a white shirt and tie beneath. It wasn't overpowering (how could it be, when the archangel had set it up to be perfect), but a dull gold that only glinted in direct, bright light. And their ceremony was in a cathedral with candles and stained glass, just like Sam wanted. Dean was his best man, and Bobby walked him up the aisle ( _I'm not some blushing bride, Gabriel. Aw, Sam, but I really want to see you come to me, organ music playing, the whole shebang. . . I can commission a church. . . I'm freaking Gabriel . . . Bobby can give you away and everything. Dammit Gabe.)_

And everyone was there. The angels and pagans Gabe had selected, and all the hunters Sam had.

The ceremony was simple enough, for all the grandeur of the venue.

"Do you, Gabriel, take Sam Winchester as your lawful husband in heaven, now and forever?"

"I do," Gabriel said solemnly, and that meant something, because he treated so few things as if they were actually sacred.

"Do you, Sam Winchester, take Gabriel as your lawful husband in heaven, now and forever?"

"I do."

"I now pronounce you married and bonded for eternity. You may kiss your husband." Gabriel's eyebrows meant one thing, and before Sam could stop him, he gave his new husband a sloppy, dramatic, slightly wet kiss. Balthazar whooped, and people cheered.

At the reception, which was at a fancy dining hall, people gave speeches, danced with new in-laws, and generally had a good time. Then Gabriel picked up a microphone.

"I don't have words, but there is a special person I talked to about today. She's prepared a few words." And Sam's heart nearly stopped.

"Hi, Sam," said Jessica with a tiny smile.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Jessica, and I was Sam's girlfriend in college. When Dean came to get Sam, I had no idea that neither one of us would be going back to classes that morning. But I want to let you know that I am so proud of how wonderful a man you are. And I'm honored to have been a part of your life. Congratulations, Sam." Sam rushed over to her, embracing her. A speech followed from John, Mary, and Kevin, all of which received moose hugs of great proportions.

"Thank you, Gabe," he would say hours later as they got back home, Dean and Cas volunteering to do cleanup.

"Anything for you, Sam. Anything."

* * *

It was in Lawrence where they set up. It was a much smaller affair, but just as meaningful. Dean and Castiel had planned together. Their close friends and family would be there. And they would both walk up to the altar.

"They have prepared their own vows," said the minister, Ellen's friend.

"Castiel," Dean said, "You saved me from Hell. That's how we met. But you're so much more than that angel anymore. You mean so much to me. And now that we're doing this—you're stuck with me for good, and it amazes me every time I see you and think _he wants to stay with me_. I'm so lucky, so freaking blessed to have you at all, and now to have you forever . . . it's more than I could ask for. I can never, ever thank you enough for all you've given. I thought for the longest time that all my world was protecting Sam, fighting monsters, and doing the same over and over again. _You_ changed that. You're helping me believe I can be just a little bit more. So I promise—to my closest friend, the man I love, to always be beside you. To be honest. To protect and support you. To love you for the rest of my life and onward."

He slipped the ring onto Castiel's finger.

"Dean Winchester. I believed from the moment we met, the moment I touched your soul, that something had changed within me. You taught me free will, of real love, of experience, of humanity. Of pain, of ecstasy, of peace. You have left a mark on me that no one will ever see but that has resonated with me to the core. Spending eternity with you, no matter where or how, is my personal heaven. I vow to love you beyond all love, to stand beside you, and face everything to come together."

He held Dean's slightly shaking hand, and placed the ring on it.

"I now pronounce you Dean and Castiel Winchester. You may now kiss your husband," the priest said, and if wings popped out of their backs as they kissed, people only cheered louder.

* * *

Why it was that everyone insisted on getting married in a row, Bobby had no idea. He huffed as he had to yet again get in a proper suit for Adam and Eva's wedding—only the year after Dean and Cas had tied the knot, so some time had passed.

"Hush with all that grumbling, Singer," Ellen said, swatting at his shoulder, "And be happy that they're happy."

"Doesn't mean I can't be uncomfortable," the hunter replied.

"Wouldn't you want them that way on the happiest day of your life, if the roles were switched? I know that's what I want for Jo. She's taking a break from hunting. Going to school. Wants to see what she can do in the world."

"It's a new start for everyone, isn't it?"

"I think so," her eyes crinkled with her smile.

* * *

And Eva and Adam most certainly did not leave anything out of their wedding either. The entire thing was set up in the winter in a park reserve, a little angel grace keeping everyone comfortably warm in the snow-laden woods. Sweet, simple vows in the snow. Eva wore a dress with a long, long train, and off-the-shoulder straps that showed off her tattoos.

Including a new one of an Enochian rune of Adam's name across her ring finger. Adam had her name on his, too. White roses were in bouquets along the aisle. The event was surreal, and no one really remembered the words in the ceremony.

But everyone remembered Gabriel snapping them a gigantic Hershey's Kiss—literally, one with the circumference of one of those concert beach balls.

"Where the hell do you expect us to _put_ this?" Adam asked incredulously.

"I expect you to eat it," Gabriel replied. "And then kiss." They groaned at the pun.

When Ellen caught the bouquet, she blushed only a little bit.

* * *

Gabriel laughed with Sam, chasing down their hounds that had gotten loose on the property. Sam had checked in on the girl he'd helped get back to her parents, Carly. She was a psychology major at college, and was calling her parents every day. Sam found it absolutely perfect, his life now—he certainly wouldn't change it.

He travelled between Earth, Heaven, and Hell. He went on occasional hunts, checked up on people that they'd met or saved over the years. And kept an eye on Crowley.

Gabriel admitted that for a few years, he'd have to look after his brothers. Sam didn't mind; they had eternity.

"And if you need me, just ask."

"I'll probably take you up on that," Gabriel warned playfully. Sam knew it was his way of saying _thank you._

* * *

When they'd finished _The Book Thief_ , Adam and Eva only sat for a few hours on the couch in their apartment, their copies lying on the coffee table in front of them.

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked wistfully.

"What?"

"Zusak does humanity from the outside justice."

"And from the inside," Adam replied, "That's how we view ourselves, too."

"So does that mean there's really no actual difference?"

"Looks like it."

After a few moments, she smiled.

"A healer and Death are husband and wife. You prolong it, I end it. Zusak would never have guessed."

"Prolong and end life, I take it?"

"Exactly."

"I don't mind. We balance each other out that way. Otherwise we're pretty similar."

"I'm glad for that," she smiled.

* * *

Dean and Castiel had returned to the bunker, their new personal home. Sam was off with Gabe that week. Sometimes he hunted with Dean, sometimes not. Sam wasn't there, so he turned to Cas.

"So I've got a possible hunt," Dean said quietly. They'd never really discussed hunting alone together.

"Where?" Castiel sipped some coffee. A tiny smile threatened at the corners of Dean's mouth.

"Nebraska. People are complaining about strange noises at the community center and a teenager that'd been sneaking around is dead."

"Do you want me coming with?"

"If you'd like."

"I'll pack some clothes in the car." Dean could fly, but he sure loved driving Baby.

"Sounds perfect," Dean kissed him briefly, and they got things together.

Dean put in a tape and grinned, singing loudly along as they drove. Castiel joined in a line in, recognizing it.

"—my wayward soooon, there'll be peace when you are dooone. Lay your weary head to reeeeest! Don't you cry no more . . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sappy sap who loves happy endings and while this fic wasn't mostly romantically based I can't help but love the romantic sweetness of it ending on a wedding (what am I, Shakespeare? Disney? Probably Disney.)


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End

**Epilogue**

* * *

Five sets of six wings stretched in the sky. Ahead was bronze, shortly followed by iron, then gold and silver together, and copper hanging back beside another. Many other pairs of wings followed in multitudes of shades, filling the night sky.

The protector's bronze led them. The silver flashed, a beacon. The gold assured the Host that not all was lost. The copper strengthened them, comforting. And iron gave them courage for the future.

Death smiled to herself, glad that she could join in this flight.

_Well. The story continues._

God, in his study, chuckles, _Yes. But it doesn't really end, now, does it?_

She laughs. _No spoilers anymore, I take it._

_Now you're a part of it. Can't give anything away now, can I?_

_What will we face now?_

_The future. There are still monsters to be had in the world, still evils to protect the helpless from._

_What do you want me to do?_

_Save people. Hunt things. Follow what your mission is._

_And what is that?_

_. . ._

_As you wish._

Thousands of souls, glistening with their respective lights. Five archangels, pillars of virtue in the shaking chaos that is the world.

Five lights, rising to defend against the darkness and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just mirroring the prologue after all is said and done. Roll Credits. 
> 
> Oh wait this is probably the credits. So thank you all who have read this story! If you want to leave a comment, feel free, even if it's just an "I liked it" or "I didn't like it", though pointless flaming/trolling will not be tolerated. I wrote this fic a while ago, so I am already cringing at some of the mistakes I feel I've made, but I like this 'verse at the very least, so if there's enough interest I will continue to post new stories in this universe. Podfic, fan art, fan fic, criticisms, all welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
